


The Perfect Excuse

by Uniasus



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: A sad attempt to keep to Chinese culture, Alternate Timelines, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dragons, F/M, Forced Marriage, Gen, Gender Reveal, Mandate of Heaven, Prisoner of War, WIP Bing Bang 2017, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: Leaving when Captain Li Shang told her to was the perfect solution to hiding her gender. In hindsight, it might only have been the perfect excuse. Not that it matters when the Huns overtake China.





	1. Home Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the WIP Big Bang. Started this story waaaay back in 2012 and then it sat on my laptop. Hell, I even transferred the file between laptops. So glad this is done.
> 
> And a huge thanks to [Sapphire2309](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/profile) for periodically checking in and making sure this thing got done!
> 
> Underlined text have on-mouse-hover author notes, fyi.

Captain Li had told her to pack her bags, she was unsuitable for war.  Her performance in training proved it.  Never mind being found out as a woman, she would die in the first battle.  But leaving camp due to orders, that was perfect.  She didn't have to fight. Her secret had no more opportunities to be found. Her father didn't have to take her place. She had fulfilled her goal of saving him. 

Mushu was rather bittersweet about her decision.  He had attempted to convince her to keep trying and go for glory, but they both knew it was an impossible dream.  The tiny dragon had eventually admitted to being the cause of an ancestor’s decapitation and said going home was probably for the better. That's what he had been tasked to do anyway, to retrieve her. 

It all made sense. She and her father got to keep their lives. And well, it's not as if Mulan had had any honor going into camp.  Or expected to gain it.  She was still disgraced, but her position wasn't any worse than it was before.

Though now, cresting the first hill that provided a view of home, Mulan started to regret her choice.  There was nothing here for her on the farm.  The matchmaker did not plan to find her a husband.  At the camp, while she hadn't been free to be herself, she had still felt as if restraints had lifted from her body. It had been meaningful, being part of something larger than herself. She understood why her father had set aside his cane to walk to receive his orders.  It was an honor to serve the Emperor, but more than that, it made one feel useful and thus important.  Here at the farm, with how poorly she did her chores, she didn't even feel important to the chickens.

“What's the long sigh for, baby?” Mushu asked from among the saddlebags. 

“It's just...home.” 

“Ah. And you came back like a boomerang when you left like an arrow.”

 “Something like that.” Mulan reigned in Khan, staring down at the straw roofs. “It's not like I planned anything more concrete than 'go in Father's place'. I didn't think about training or later on fighting, but....”

 “It was something different?”

 “Yeah,” she sighed.

 Mushu gave a sigh of his own. “I know what you mean.  Out there, I was helping you and having an adventure.  Now, it's back to ringing the gong.”

 Cri-Kee made a noise from his perch on Khan's head.

 “Yeah yeah, there are worse things than being a gong ringer.”

 “And there are worse things than farm work," Mulan said . "Let's go home, Mushu.”

Mulan urged Khan forward into a slow, plodding walk. No need to go fast, she was painfully aware of the image her men's clothes made. She turned the war horse down a field path.  They would approach her home from the back. It would be longer, but Mulan didn't mind.

* * *

She had purposely taken her time, avoiding patches with workers and doing her best to time her arrival at the house for after sunset.  She reached the complex a little early, the beginning of sunset, and the golden light shone on the house.  An ache bloomed in her chest.  She had missed home, as imperfect as it was. 

Holding off on announcing her presence until Khan was taken care of, Mulan turned the horse towards the small stable.  Mushu climbed up her side to sit on her shoulder and stared at the shrine they were quickly approaching.

“Well, guess this is good bye, Mulan.”

She turned her head to place a kiss on the side of the dragon's face. “You've been the best guardian a girl could ask for. You got me home safe.”

Mushu mumbled something, and if he weren’t already red, Mulan would have expected to see him blush.

“Come say hi from time to time, okay? May not always answer, but I'll hear you.”

“Of course.”

Khan stopped even with the shrine, allowing Mushu to jump to the ground.  Mulan watched him slip into the empty temple, only to realized it wasn't empty. Her father had been bowing in prayer, but Khan's hoof beats alerted him to a visitor.  He rose to his knees to look over his shoulder.

“Mulan?“ he breathed. 

Shorter hair, fewer pounds, and a new change of clothes wouldn't prevent him from recognizing her. Then again, Khan was a dead giveaway.

She cringed away from her name, but quickly slid off the horse and prostrated herself on the ground.

“I'm sorry, Father, for leaving and worrying the family.”

There was the sound of wood on stone. The sound of a body hitting dirt. Fa Zhou fell to his knees beside her to pull her up into a hug. “You were foolish for leaving like that. You could have been killed! And you've worried your mother.”

“I'm sorry, Father,” she whispered into his neck. 

He squeezed her tightly before pulling back. “I'm sure you had a rough journey, and I am so happy to see you home, Mulan. The ancestors have heard my prayers for your safe return. Come, let us make an offering of thanks.”  Despite his old injury, Fa Zhou pulled his daughter to her feet and led her into the temple to light incense.

When they were done with their prayers, they walked in silence on either side of Khan to the stable. Together, they rubbed the horse down after unsaddling him.

Zhou fingered her supplies. “This tent is old, from my days as a lowly soldier in the army, did it leak?”

“No Father, your patchwork is very good. All of your old equipment worked.  Again, I am sorry I took it.”

“It does not matter, not now that you are home safe.  Come, you mother should have dinner ready.”

Fa Li did have dinner ready but dropped the bowl of rice to rush to take her daughter in her arms. The clay shattered when it hit the ground, spilling rice, but no one cared.

 “I'm home,” Mulan said, tears running down her eyes while she held her mother close.  It may not be the best place in the world, but it would always be home. A place where she was accepted and loved.  She couldn't have been happier to be back.

* * *

It took about a week for her to realize just how much the 'solution' was really an excuse. Mulan found herself waking up early to perform the drills Captain Li had them do every morning.  Running with water on her shoulders, balancing on the bridge posts, strength exercises, fishing.  She couldn't very well practice aiming canons, and her father was in no shape to spar, but on mornings when he wasn't stiff he would go through fighting patterns with her.

She progressed quickly, going for longer and longer runs with more weight.  She could catch fish from the koi pond balancing on one leg while standing in the water and while leaning over the side of the pool to hide her legs from the fish. Her father had made a dummy for her to hit and Khan was regularly put through his paces.

Mulan didn't want to admit it, but she missed being at the Wu Zhong camp.  She liked the routine, the self-improvement.  She hadn't liked being the worst one and the embarrassment that came with it. Captain Li's suggestion had prevented further injury to her pride, something she hadn't realized possible after her incident with the matchmaker.  Apparently, she still had some image of self-worth and honor, small as it may be.  It didn't compare with the likes of Yao and Ling, but here she could engage in activities that kept those feelings from dying. 

It made it both more and less bearable to be home. To know she took the easy way out.

Her training, or playing as Fa Li liked to call it, got on her mother's nerves.  Mulan had learned discipline at the camp; she did her chores properly and timely, did her best to be a traditional daughter during the day.  However, during the night hours, as well as dawn and dusk, Mulan donned men's clothing and practiced like a solider. In an effort to put a stop to it, Li had gone to visit the matchmaker.

Mulan was in her room practicing calligraphy when her mother returned. Nervously, Mulan walked to the main room to greet her.

Fa Li was pale and her hands trembled. 

Mulan rushed to clasp her mother's hands in hers. “Here, sit, I'll make some tea.”

“Do that, and call your father and grandmother.”

Her grandmother was in the kitchen and took over the task of brewing tea. “Get your father, Mulan, he's in the shrine. This sounds important.”

Mulan didn't run to the shrine, daylight was for being a lady, but her steps were larger than decorum suggested. She also interrupted her father's prayer instead of waiting for him to acknowledge her as was proper. “Mother has returned. I feel she has terrible news.”

Zhou reached for his cane and with it rose to his feet. “We best listen to it then.”

He bowed to the gravestones. Mulan did as well before they made their way together to the house.

They walked into Fa Myung passing Li a cup of tea.

“Well, we already guessed the matchmaker wasn't going to pair Mulan up with a nice boy, but hearing it from the matchmaker herself just pounded the nail in,” Myung said.

Li shook her head and took a sip of tea. “No, the matchmaker actually had a suggestion for Mulan and was talking to the family.” 

Mulan froze in bringing her tea to her lips. The matchmaker had found a match? If everything went well, she could marry and have sons? Reclaim an honorable life for a woman? It was almost too good to be true.

“But that's not what I have to tell you.  The Huns have attacked the Imperial City. They destroyed most of the Imperial Army coming in and arrived with little challenge.  All that the Emperor has for protection is the palace guards. “

“The palace guards are some of the finest troops in China. They will keep the Emperor safe,” Zhou said.

“Good thing the captain told you to go home, huh Mulan?” Myung nudged her. “You could have been with the group that died in the pass”.

Everyone around the table froze. Death had always been an outcome for Mulan, that they knew, but to have an actual example of it in front of them was terrifying in a new way.  Fa Li put her hand in the middle of the table and Mulan slid her own into it. Her father’s covered both their hands.

“As unsettling as such news is, this far west we should have little trouble.  Changes in government affect farmers the least of all people. They need us to tend to the crops, and we have no direct ties to the Emperor. We are jumping to conclusions. The Huns have not won. Now Li, tell us about Mulan's future husband.”

* * *

Mulan felt uncomfortable in her white makeup, but not as out of place as she had in mid spring.  Now, summer fully here, Mulan felt thankful to be alive and for the chance to bring honor to her family through marriage. Ho Chang wasn't an ideal husband, Mulan was ashamed at how often she thought of Captain Li Shang's body, but he was the best she could get.  Really, she should have been married off to a third son of a nearby village based on her matchmaking day, but her father's status as an honored general in the Imperial Army still had some weight.   Ho Chang was a first son, whose family grew rice instead of the grains Mulan was used to working with, and he lived in town.  She would be able to visit her family regularly.

Taking dainty footsteps, Mulan lifted up the hem of her gown to walk up the steps of the shrine to pray one last time.  She had done it earlier this morning after working out and before preparing herself, but today was really, really important.

“Please ancestors, help me impress my future husband.  Let Ho Chang see me as the perfect wife,” she spoke as she lit incense, then stood with her head bowed. Tradition and respect said she should at least kneel, but since she had swept the stone floor hours ago windblown dust had resettled on it and she didn't want to dirty her gown.

A cricket’s chirp had her looking up.

Cri-Kee peeked over the edge of the incense holder, Mushu's sleeping state home. Mulan brushed a pair of fingers down the brass dragon's spine and Cri-Kee hopped on them when she was finished.

“You cannot come Cri-Kee. Half of my trouble at the matchmaker's was thanks to you.”

The little creature stared up at her, eyes wide and quivering.  Mulan gave in. “Oh, all right. Grandma would be pleased; she still swears you are a lucky cricket. But no jumping into the tea!”

With a happy chirp, the cricket jumped from her hand to her shoulder to finally drop into her sash belt.

“Mulan!” Fa Li yelled.

Mulan gave a bow to the grave markers before making her way to the stables. 

This day wasn't just about her meeting Ho Chang; this was about the Fas meeting the Hos.  So they could all travel together, her father had hooked up Khan to the wagon.  Zhou sat on the driver's bench, proud and straight.  Behind him, the normally open wagon now held a pink canvas cover.  It would allow Li, Myung, and Mulan to ride in the back without worrying about the sun or dust.  It would also keep Mulan hidden from view. Dressed as a bride, traditionally no one could see her but her family. Or future family.  She had to be kept out of sight until they reached the matchmaker's. 

Mulan spent the time sitting still while her family fretted about her and made tiny adjustments to how her hair sat or her folds lay.  Cri-Kee made a noise that had Li jump, but Myung simply looked down at Mulan's waist, saw the cricket's lump in the fabric, and smiled. “You'll do great, Mulan.”

There was the sound of gates opening. They had arrived.

“Now remember,” her mother started up for the third time. “Do not speak unless asked to. Keep your eyes down. And for China's sake don't spill the tea.”

“Yes, mother,” she answered demurely.

Fa Li sighed and kissed Mulan's hair. “I'm just nervous, but I'm sure you have more nerves than me. Be brave.”

Brave.  She had never fit that word to her day life, the time when she was Mulan-the-proper-farm-girl and not the failed-warrior-Mulan who took over when the sun disappeared. She wasn't scared about this meeting; her life wasn't on the line.  She wasn't going to have to worry about Yao or another trainee sneaking up behind her.  This was normal, scripted. 

Yet, here she was facing an unknown future and unknown people who would determine it. Up until this moment, it hadn't felt nearly as scary as trying to figure out how to walk into the Wu Zhong camp.

 _Be brave._   That meant this was a situation her mother found scary. Now, and maybe years ago when on a similar day when she had met Fa Zhou.

For Mulan, that wasn't the case. This was a predictable scenario. A traditional ceremony and everyone had his or her own role to play.  Bravery was for when you walked into unknown situations and this wasn't that.  She would be fine. 

The curtain pealed back and her father smiled at Mulan.  She returned it and accepted his hand to help her off the wagon.  Once they had all gotten off, a stable hand started unhitching Khan. Mulan gave the horse a small pat on her way inside the building.

Her family took a right, towards the main room, but the matchmaker led Mulan to the kitchen.  The matchmaker stared down at her, arms crossed, but Mulan stared at the matchmaker's shoes placidly. A proper lady, soon to be wed.  

With nothing to criticize, the matchmaker snuffed and turned on her heel to enter the main room. Mulan was left alone in the kitchen.

She turned to the collection of herbs on the wall.  Her task was to make tea and bring it out to the families while they got to know one another. A test of her hosting skills.

Looking at all the dried plants, unlabeled, that she was supposed to use to create her own tea blend, Mulan felt her palms sweat and her heart beat faster. She didn't know half of those plants!

_Be brave._

Because now Mulan was afraid. Of a different sort than when being discovered as a woman among men would mean her death. This was an ordinary sort of afraid. Not for the continuation of her life, but for the type of life she would have. Would Ho Chang let her practice fishing and hand-to-hand? Would he be kind to her?  Did that really matter? To her, yes, but it was already decided she would belong to him at war's end. What could she do to ensure a pleasant as possible marriage?

At the moment, it was making the perfect tea.

“Cri-Kee, help me out! Where's the jasmine?”

With a chirp, the cricket hopped out of his hiding place to the bundle of herbs.  He jumped around for a little bit, then stopped on top of an herb on the lowest shelf. Mulan grabbed it and started pulling off dried leaves. 

 _Jasmine, jasmine._ What else did her mother use?  She didn't know!  “I need something else, just pick one!” She told the cricket. 

She listened to the chirps and whistles of the bug behind her as she started the fire. How hot should the water be? How long should the leaves sit?

Mulan had gone over this ceremony many times with her mother and grandmother, but all womanly knowledge had flown out her ears. All she could think about when staring at the fire was dodging flaming arrows.  This was not the time!

Turning, she saw Cri-Kee standing on another bundle. Not leaves, roots.  She didn't know what they were but trusted her friend's luck.  She grabbed one and started skinning it.

She finished mashing the root just as the water began to boil and so put it in.  Mulan and Cri-Kee started at the pot while it bubbled, and when the cricket made a sound she figured that was good enough. She removed the pot from the fire, added the jasmine leaves, and started setting up the tray with a tea set.

The matchmaker had a variety of sets on display. Mulan knew it was a test.  She knew what she should do - choose a well-made set with little embellishments to represent the Fa family. They weren't rich, but lived comfortably.  The blue one would be perfect. But her eyes kept drifting to an expensive set – china, not baked clay, painted a brilliant red with gold dragons on the cups.  Her heart ached as she thought of Mushu; she could use some of the dragon's humor right now.

She'd use that set, in honor of him.  It was thanks to him she hadn't been caught at camp and killed; was here today.

Cups on the tray, four for her family, three for the Ho's, and one for matchmaker, Mulan figured the tea had steeped enough.  She poured the tea in the teapot, Cri-Kee holding the strainer as she did so. That done, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

The fear she felt now was a different type than she had felt before, but it was still fear, and one unique to women.  Mulan didn't consider herself a coward. She would walk through that door, down the hallway, and into the main room proudly and respectfully.

A voice in her head, that sounded a little like Mushu if he were a girl, said _Cowards run though, and isn't that what you did four weeks ago?_

There were different types of fear; maybe there were different types of cowards too. The thought stung, she didn't want to be seen as cowardly and not for the first time did she wonder what could have happened if she had refused to leave when Captain Li handed over Khan's reins. Maybe the Hun army wouldn't be at the Emperor's gates.

Who was she kidding? She wasn't meant for war.

But she was also getting the feeling she wasn't meant for this either.

Mulan sighed. Her stress in the kitchen had no doubt loosened her hair and frumpled her dress. Too bad there wasn't a mirror.

“How do I look, Cri-Kee?”

He chirped happily. Mulan took that as a 'great'.

Mulan stood as straight as she could, smoothed down her dress and pulled her sash a bit away from her body to encourage the cricket to hop in. “Now remember,” she whispered as she picked up the tray to begin her slow, many stepped walk to the main room, “stay out of the tea.”

She met her first boundary at the door. How was she to open it with her hands full? She'd close doors around the farm with her hips and feet, maybe she could open this one the same way?

Slowly, Mulan ran her foot along the bottom of the door, searching for the edge.  When she found it, she pushed her foot in the direction she wanted the door to go.  Unfortunately, instead of staying on the outside of the door's wooden edge, her foot slid over the wood and ripped through the rice paper.

The muted conversations on the other side of the door stopped.

There were steps as someone got up and Mulan soon found herself looking down at her mother. She was frowning, displeased with her, but after looking Mulan up and down before nodding Mulan figured she had passed the presentable test.

Everyone stared at her while she walked to the table.  Mulan tried to put what just happened behind her, to concentrate on the next step of pouring tea, but it was hard. Her hands shook, and the tray hit the table with more noise than was proper. The matchmaker across the table glared at her. Mulan might have been looking down at the cups, but she could feel the gaze through her hair making her face flush beneath her white makeup.

The young man seated across from her grandmother was too young to be Ho Chang, and Mulan felt silly for remembering only now that as a first son he would most likely be with Captain Li. They hadn't trained together, they had been in different small groups, which was good now that she thought about it, but she had halfway thought Ho Chang would be sitting next to her today.  The camp was close enough to allow a day's leave.

But with the Imperial City under attack...Li Shang had probably marched towards it.  The troops had to be safe; if there was the possibility Ho Chang was dead this wedding would be called off.

Or she would marry the new eldest, the second son, the boy to her left. Eleven, twelve at the oldest. How could she relate to him? 

But with such a young husband, she could probably convince him to allow her to continue her personal training. A small wish for Ho Chang's death sprouted in her chest and she quickly smothered it.  It was an evil wish.

Carefully, Mulan poured tea and distributed the cups. First to Ho Shan, then to her own father, followed by Ho Chang's younger brother, the matchmaker, her grandmother, her future mother-in-law, her mother, and lastly herself. Order indicated respect, she hoped she got it right. She had forgotten in what position the matchmaker should be, before or after the eldest woman. But her grandmother would forgive a slight snub, so Mulan had served the matchmaker first.

Mulan waited with baited breath as her future family took a sip of tea.  They all stared in puzzlement at their cups before politely continuing to drink. Mulan couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Quickly, but demurely, she took a sip herself.

Oh. The root had been ginger. Ginger and jasmine. Not a conventional combination, but at least it hadn’t over steeped.

“This is Mulan, my humble daughter,” Fa Zhou said after finishing his cup. “As you can see, she is very beautiful.”

Ho Shan looked in her direction and Mulan kept her eyes on the two dragons on the tea pot. For comfort, she put her hand over the spot where Cri-Kee hid and the bug jumped up into her palm for his version of a nudge.

“Yes, and while clumsy, she does seem to know how to behave,” Ho Shan answered.

Ancestors be praised, she wasn't completely failing this!

Conversation between the two men continued, talk of wealth and dowries and a possible time for the wedding.  The matchmaker sat quietly listening, as did the matrons of both families, but it was obvious Fa Li was sizing up Ho Xi in her own way.  Would this new woman take Mulan under her wing and treat her as her own daughter?  Like Mulan, her mother had no say in whether this wedding would talk place or not. It _would_ take place.  But it was nice to have at least some idea of how life in the future would be. Judging by her mother's smile, Mulan didn't think it would be that bad.

She had been trying to picture Ho Chang's face since her mother told her he would be her husband, but she'd never been successful. Mulan would imagine it in parts: eyes, ears, nose, mouth, back, chest. When she had put them together in her mind, she saw Captain Li Shang.  It did not do anyone any good to think of him. So she thought of parts. They might have been Captain Li's hands or ears, but the rest of the face and body could have been anyone's.

Mulan glanced at Chang's brother, hoping to gain a clue on what her husband would look like and push the Captain’s image from her mind.  The boy had thin lips, small ears, beady eyes.  His face was still round, giving away his young age, but Ho Shan had a stiff, pointy chin and so Mulan guessed his eldest son would have the same feature.  Not attractive, but not unattractive either.

Really, the more Mulan thought about it, the more she realized she could have been stuck with someone a lot worse. One of the gods smiled on her, for some reason.  This was a good family, and she hadn't blown the meeting.

But of course, something had to mess it all up. 

There was a thumping of hooves and shouting. Everyone turned to the windows, but the men quickly left to join the throng outside.  The matchmaker followed, staying on the porch. The adult women joined her, leaving Mulan and the young Ho together. Mulan instantly went to the window. Men were talking, but nothing clear reached her ears.

“You're really pretty.”

Mulan turned around.

“I'm Jhou.”

“Nice to meet you, Ho Jhou. I'm Fa Mulan.”

“I know.”

“Oh. Um...what's your brother like?”

Jhou shrugged. “He helps a lot around the farm, he's really strong. He doesn't like me though. I'm not very strong, so he makes fun of me.”

Mulan felt her heart thud.  The family was good, the groom not.

A commotion from outside drew her attention to the window. Jhou came to join her.

Apparently, the horseman had come from the Imperial City, riding hard to inform each village he came across.  The city had fallen, the Emperor was dead, and Shan Yu, leader of the Huns sat the throne.

* * *

Unable to sleep that night, Mulan she slipped out of bed and pulled on a shawl. She lit the candle and crept out the door to the shrine.  Once there, she lit an incense stick but instead of placing it under Mushu's metal belly she placed it on the half wall that surrounded the tablets.  Mulan lifted Mushu from the nail he hung from and brought him into her lap, stroking his bronze back as she talked.

“I know if I had stayed at the camp I most likely would have been found and killed, or killed in battle. But I can't help but wonder if I had stayed, what would have happened.”

Mushu didn't say anything, he was cold bronze and Mulan had no idea how to wake him up.

“After meeting the Ho family today, I feel so lost. I could do so much more than bear sons, but I don't know what exactly. If that makes sense.  I left home to save my father, but also to do something meaningful to _me._ I failed at being a solider, I can't fight very well, but I still wish... I still want to do something for _me._ Something that I want to do, that will still honor my family.  I just don't know what that is.”

She sighed. Her friend may not be able to answer, but she knew he heard her and for now, it was enough.  Mulan wouldn't dare bring her thoughts to her parents, they'd remind her of her place.  Mulan was engaged to a decent man with a good family. She shouldn't ruin it, and these thoughts would certainly lead to action that would.

While not fully awake, Mulan didn't feel like going back to bed. She stood to return Mushu to his place but thought better of it.  She had a greater need for her friend than the ancestors did for their gong ringer, even if he couldn't answer her.  After she changed and filled two buckets with weight, Mulan placed Mushu on top of the rocks in the right handed one.  She wouldn't actually be able to talk to him, running took too much effort, but just having him with her made her feel better. She could pretend they were working together for honor and China.

* * *

The following week was tense. With Shan Yu on the throne, no one knew what to expect.  Her father expected little trouble for them.  They were days from the capital and far enough from the Northern border they had escaped most effects of the short war.  Life would continue in its peaceful manner. Hopefully.

But when Mulan rode into town on market day, other people weren't of the same opinion. There still had to be fighting going on somewhere, otherwise the conscripted men would have returned by now. No, this transition wasn't peaceful, and there was the question the Huns’ goals. Would Shan Yu rule it as a colony, would they simply steal China’s resources, or was Shan Yu running away from something in the steppes and looking for a place to call his own? Maybe he wanted to link the Middle Kingdom with the Mongolian region? There were too many unknowns, and the unknown made people scared.

The manly scared, the fear for your life scared. Mulan felt a lot more comfortable with that fear than thoughts of her wedding, whose date had been left to be decided later. War wasn’t a time for weddings.

Mulan pulled Khan to a stop behind a grain house.  The Yee family had been a constant buyer of Fa wheat, and she had brought part of their early harvest. Midsummer had past, the flowers were dying.  Within a month, serious harvesting would begin. 

She knocked on the door and Yee Huen answered it with a smile.  “Fa Mulan!” he greeted, voice at a normal level but carrying far due to its deepness. “I heard about your engagement. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I've brought you young wheat, as asked.”

“I see that.” He walked to the back of the wagon and started unloading sacks.  Mulan rushed to help and was grateful when he didn't protest the idea of a woman lifting heavy things.  He had known her for years, and out of sight behind the shop allowed her to be her eager-to-help self.

Huen paused on his way to get a second bag, staring under the wagon seat. “Is that an incense holder?”

Mulan tried to hide her embarrassed blush but failed. “I've grown quite fond of the little dragon. He's a temple spirit and with times being what they are I like having him near me.”

Huen nodded, and they went back to work in silence.

Mulan felt a little foolish, carrying around the inert Mushu and alive Cri-Kee in the upside down gong, but she felt they were her only allies right now. They knew everything that had happened, understood what she went through at the camp, and a little of the effects of being back at home. Mushu had understood, calling her a boomerang. The little dragon had felt just as bittersweet about their return, and knowing she wasn't alone in that made her feel better.

Because it really should be a crime, not wanting to be home with family.  She didn't know where she would rather be, there was no place for her. But the farm had been growing smaller and smaller this week and Mulan was feeling more and more cooped up.  Her runs lasted longer, she came up with every excuse to be out of the house.  She found herself hoping the wedding would hurry up and come so she could leave.

She had woken up this morning with the strange thought of simply hopping on Khan and riding. Riding and riding with no destination but knowing something meaningful would have happened eventually.  Instead, she had hooked the stallion to the wagon and came into town.  

All four of them together, Khan, Cri-Kee, Mushu and herself, on the road this morning had made her feel stronger. She rode as if dressed in her amour and not a traveling dress, a feeling she tried to hold on too as much as possible. Because the other reason for carrying Mushu around was she felt trouble looming on the horizon and she wanted her guardian on her shoulder when the storm broke.

They had made it through struggles in the past, and she felt confident that she would need her not-human friends by her side to make it through future ones.

Wagon empty, Huen came out with a sack of coins as payment.  As he placed it in Mulan's hands, she could tell it was heavier than normal.

“Are you giving me an advance?”

“No. Most of the fields in the north and those around the Imperial City were ruined. The harvest here is in demand and will gather higher prices this year. Next year too, if the Huns stay put. Those fields will take a few seasons to recover.”

“I pray that's the case.”

“Just so.”

They bowed in farewell and Mulan got back up on the wagon.

“Home, Khan,” she said and the horse obediently started backing up into the street before turning around.

Mulan moved Mushu from her feet to between her thighs as they exited the town center.  She could feel it, likes eyes on the space between her shoulder blades. Trouble was coming.  Mulan kept looking over her shoulder, half way expecting to see Huns on their mountain ponies on the horizon line. 

“Anyone else feel trouble brewing?”

Khan snorted at the same time as Cri-Kee gave an almost painfully loud chirp in her ear.  Mushu sat silently as ever, but the metal between her thighs had grown warm like a rake left too long in the sun.  They all agreed.

Khan trotted home, and despite her ambivalent feelings towards it, Mulan was glad to have strong walls between her and the outside world.

* * *

It was another two weeks before the signs of trouble were seen.  Dread had been building in Mulan's chest every day, and it seemed she wasn't the only one to sense it. Cri-Kee had abandoned the shrine as his home, always with her during the day and sleeping on her pillow at night. Khan was more riled up than he had been as a colt, and her family members kept looking at the horizon as if expecting a rider any moment.

Mulan claimed Mushu as her own, much to her father's annoyance.  The dragon incense stand belonged in the temple, not on Mulan's window shelf.  He had looked at her habit of bringing the dragon on runs and market trips with exasperated acceptance, but enough was enough. An incense burner did no one any good.  If she was that worried about the future, they could move one of the guardian statues from its pedestal into the house.

But no, Mulan insisted on keeping Mushu with her. If incense holders were of no consequence, there was no reason why she couldn't have this one.  They could use a spare tea cup filled with sand as a replacement.  It was an item of no importance, except to Mulan to whom its presence offered a strange comfort.  Zhou, like many times before, gave in to his daughter's wishes.

This morning, a desire to surround herself with partners had her waking up Khan for a morning ride instead of going for a weighted run.  As they left the compound through the back, she could just make out the beginning of dawn, the sky a soft orange on the horizon.

Except, she wasn't facing east.

She was looking south, towards the majority of the fields, and beyond that the next town. She wasn't looking at the sunset; she was looking at Fudan burning.

She wasn't looking at the sunset; she was looking at Fudan burning.

“Hah!” She kicked Khan into a gallop. He didn't pay attention to the paths between fields, the horse took the straightest route to the road and then stretched out further.  Cri-Kee protested the speed, clinging to Mulan's topknot. She spared a hand on the reigns to move the cricket to inside her training shirt.  He jumped around trying to find a comfortable spot before settling.

Like most of her rides with Khan, Mulan had packed saddlebags behind the saddle to simulate the weight the horse would bear on a march. Mushu, in his untalkative state was wedged between two of them, just his head and back spines sticking out. She turned to look at him, half expecting to see metal turn into flesh, but nothing happened.  Apparently the danger wasn't great enough for her to need a guardian. Slightly hopeful, that.

The closer they got to Fudan, the better Mulan could see the flames.  Smoke poured from the village. By wagon speed, Fudan was a good half a day away.  Even with Khan at a gallop, she doubted she would get there in time to do much. The flames had to have been high to be seen from home. It couldn't have been just one or two buildings on fire, it had to be the entire village.

Still in a rush to get there, but not willing to push Khan to his limits, she pulled back his gallop to a quick canter.  They made good time, shaving two and a half hours off the trip, but even so it was too late.  Khan galloped the last furlong into the village, but it wasn't a village any more. Just collapsed roofs and charred support beams. 

Her arrival went mostly unnoticed. People were busy putting out leftover fires, drawing water from various wells, and transferring the buckets to the most needed areas.  At this point, most of the flames were under control and Mulan had no desire to insert herself in their firefighting system. It already worked well. 

Instead, she joined a trio of men searching through the wreckage of a building look for survivors. They greeted her with a quick glance and a nod, thankful for the extra help. In silence, they turned over fallen walls and charred furniture.

Cri-Kee let out a string of chirps. Mulan looked over to see him jumping on a piece of collapsed roof halfway between her and the next searcher.  Mulan walked over and saw a few fingers sticking out from underneath it.

“I found someone!” she cried and all three men joined her in an effort to lift the roof. 

Mulan stood under a portion of the roof, bracing it with her back to give whoever was under it time to get out or for another to pull them away. A hiss turned her attention to one of the men she worked with.  The sun shinned fully, but everyone was so covered with soot she had had a hard time telling ages.  But now, looking at him, some of the gray in his hair wasn't ashes.

He stared at the person Mulan had revealed, eyes wide with surprise and sorrow.  Mulan finally looked under the roof.  A small girl lay there, maybe seven, weeping burns on her body. Eyes wide open and unblinking.  Dead.

“Mei!” the man whispered, but it lashed at Mulan like a scream.

He pulled his daughter out and started crying over her body, not caring about public displays of emotion.

Mulan and the others let him be, moving on to a different area to search.

A neigh from Khan caught her attention. One of the villagers was pulling on his bridle. Mulan stomped over to them and in an effort to appear authoritative spoke in the deep voice she had developed for Ping.

“What are you doing to my horse?”

The man pulling on the reins turned around and Mulan found herself face to face with Ling. 

She froze.  She had dressed like a man heading out on her ride, but unlike her time at camp she hadn't bound her breasts. Mulan hadn't expected to be gone from home so long, she was usually back before the sun fully rose and relied on the lack of light to hide her figure.  Here, there was no such protection, but so far no one had questioned her as to why she did a man's work.  Maybe dressing as a man was enough, with everyone stressed and thankful for an extra pair of hands. 

Here stood a true test, if someone who knew her face would bypass... other things.

“Ping! I thought this horse looked familiar. How you doing?” Ling slapped Mulan on the back, knocking her almost off balance.

“Okay, until I saw the town on fire.”

“Yeah, well...” Ling shrugged.  “We've been following the Huns since we came across them in the Imperial City. They've been going through the countryside pillaging. Captain Li has been following them, but we've never been able to fully catch up.”

“Sounds like we have a lot to talk about.”

“You bet. Captain Li told us you left, but never mentioned why.”

“Eh he he, about that.”

They talked as they worked. The Huns had taken all the horses they could, but a few that had run from the fire slowly returned.  Immediately, they were tacked up to drag debris out of the way. Ling and Mulan worked together loading a wagon with broken support beams and clay tiles to clear the roads, Khan strutting as he did his share of the work.

Due to lack of communication, the recruits had stayed at Wu Zhong camp. It was only when they heard the news of the Imperial City under attack did they move.  They had traveled through the Tung Shao Pass, but near its entrance came across a burned village.  None of the civilians had survived, nor any of the Imperial troops stationed there led by General Li.  By the time they had reached the Imperial City, the Emperor was already dead. His body, as well as those of his two youngest daughters, were hung from the gates to the palace compound. Shan Yu had taken the eldest as his wife, though there hadn't been a ceremony.

Captain Li had tried to retake the city, but their group was too small and not the most well-trained. They lost half their number and bid a hasty, unorganized retreat into the woods.  It had taken days for them to regroup and find each other, hiding from warriors Shan Yu had sent after them.

Shan Yu then sent small cavalries into the country side. While their official orders had been to find and destroy any groups pulling together a counter attack – Imperial Army troops unaccounted for, loyal citizens, and the like – they were also going around the country destroying towns and plundering. Food, horses, gold, the Huns took it all.

Their regiment had followed a group of Huns back along their original path, and had settled into the Wu Zhong camp the previous evening.  Ling, as well as a few other soldiers, had been sent out as scouts.  Ling and his partner, Chang Chen-yi, had come into Fudan just as the Huns had finished lighting it on fire.

Marching and fighting with little rest, as well as seeing lots of villages in similar situations as Fudan, had taken its toll on Ling. He was thinner than he had been, face pale with lack of sleep.  When they broke for lunch, she left him leaning against Khan's side as she went to retrieve food for the pair of them.  He was half-way asleep when she returned.

“Sorry it's not much,” she said, sitting down next to him.

“I didn't expect much.” He took the bowl from her.  Some of the village women had put together a soup, throwing in a bit of what the men had found left behind by the Huns.  The rice floating in the broth was burnt, the taste making Mulan unable to finish.

“You gonna eat that, Ping?”

She shook her head and handed the bowl to Ling.  With how often Captain Li had kept his troops on the move she doubted they ate well. They had to be on rations and living off the land by now, with no Emperor to send them supply wagons and the villages they came across having little to spare.

“I should be getting back home,” Mulan said as Ling set her bowl in his. “Khan's too tired to go anywhere fast, so it'll take me the rest of the day.”

“Why don't you come back to Wu Zhong with me?” Ling asked.

Mulan cringed. “Captain Li sent me away for a reason, Ling. I couldn't finish training, and considering what you've been through going home probably saved my life.  Li Shang didn't want me there before, and I doubt he'd want a screw up like me there again.”

“I don't know, Ping.  We've lost a lot of men; we could use you.  You did alright around here today.”

She shook her head. “My family doesn't even know I came. They're probably worried about me. I can't join the army without letting them know.”  The irony of the statement didn't escape her, but at least when she had done it in the spring she had left hints as to what she had done. 

“Well then, at least spend the night at camp.  It's closer and since you know the area you can help the Captain plan.”

“Ling, most of the recruits were from this area.”

“You got me there. We're all from this region, and because of that this has gotten to all of us.  We ran into our village, that is, where me, Yao, and Chien-Po came from, two days ago.  It's in worse shape than Fudan.”

“I'm sorry. But Ling, if the Huns continue on the same path the next village will be mine.  If they attack at night, like they did here, I want to be home to protect it.”

Ling nodded, understanding.  “Then I'll come with you.  I can't do much here, and for once I'd like to actually fight the Huns instead of cleaning up their mess.  Let's find Chen-yi. He can report to the Captain tonight.”

Mulan protested, she did not need anyone from the army following her home. But Ling insisted and she couldn't come up with a good reason for him to not to.  Together they found Chen-yi and informed him of their plans. They mounted Khan and set off north.

* * *

It was just before dusk when Mulan and Ling walked into the compound.  Her father waited on the main porch and she could see the relief in his eyes when she appeared. Fa Zhou opened his mouth to greet her, but then noticed their guest dressed in Imperial armor.

“Chen Ling, this is my father, Fa Zhou.  Father, this is Chen Ling. We were in the same unit before Captain Li uh...”

Ling bowed. “It is an honor to meet you, Fa Zhou. You are well known in the Army.  And I think if Ping had stayed, he could have risen to equal you in rank.”

Zhou frowned. “I love my...son, but he and I are both aware of the fact he is not on par with most men.”

Ling cast a glance Mulan's way, who tried to ignore it.

“We bring news from Fudan,” Ling continued. “Ping and I were assisting with the damage today.”

“I see.” He didn't look startled at the news, Mulan guessed that knowledge of Fudan's predicament had reached town and her father had assumed she had made her way there. “Do come in for dinner, I feel we have much to talk about it.”

Fa Zhou walked back into the house and Ling turned to look at Mulan. “Jeez, talk about a tough father. He's almost the exact opposite of you, Ping.”   

“You try coming home to tell your father you weren't good enough to pass training. I have dishonored my family with my weakness.” She bowed her head and started leading Khan to his stall.  Ling trailed after her.

“Yeah, that is tough.  But you could fix it, come to camp with me tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Ping, we need you.”

“I said no, Ling. I doubt my contributions to the army would be any better than they would have been a few months ago. Besides, I'm needed here more. I'm an only child, my family needs me to look after the farm. Harvest is soon.”

Ling puffed, but stayed quite.

Li and Myung stayed quite while the 'men' talked during dinner, and Ling again suggested Ping join him and the rest of what was left of the regiment at Wu Zhong.  Zhou held a similar opinion to his 'son'.  Ping was not to leave the farm.

Faced with two “no” s from very determined people, Ling gave in. Talk still continued to revolve around the war, with the women at the table growing nervous as it was suggested the Huns could attack any day.

“They don't seem to wait for a need for supplies,” Ling said as Fa Li handed him a cup of tea. “They've attacked two nearby villages in a night, clearing them out.  Based on the inventory of Fudan, ideally they wouldn't need to restock for a month, but their current pattern suggests they'll attack here much earlier. Probably this week.”

Fa Zhou frowned.  “We need to tell the other villagers so we can be on guard. Post a guard at night around the edge of town.”

Mulan nodded. “I'll tell people tomorrow. I was planning on going into town.”

Her father nodded.

“I'll come too,” Ling added.

“No,” Zhou said. “Your task is to return to Captain Li. You have already stepped outside of your orders, do not push them further. Disobeying the chain of command is a crime. Besides, he may have a job for you elsewhere.”    

Ling nodded and they all finished dinner in silence.

* * *

Mulan walked Ling to the door the next morning to see him off. 

“It was good to see you again, Ping.” 

“You too, Ling. Give my regards to everyone.”

“I will.”

“Hope to see you again, when we don't have Huns in the area.” 

Ling chuckled, and there was something bitter about it. “Same here. Who knows, maybe I'll resettle here and then we could see each other every day.”

 _Oh, please no._   “That would be nice.”

Mulan watched him walk down the road for a few moments, then walked back into the compound. Her family stood on the front porch, waiting for her.

“Ping?” Her grandmother asked.

Mulan shrugged. “I didn't actually pick out a name beforehand and panicked when the Captain asked me for my name.”

“Still, could have chosen one of our ancestors.” Myung snorted. “Army boys aren't very attractive now, are they. I remember staring at the soldiers when I was younger, but I wouldn't have looked twice at him.”

“Mama!” Fa Li said, shocked.

Mulan smiled as she slid around them to get to her room. “I don't know, Grandmother. Ling's not a pretty boy, but that doesn't mean there aren't any in the regiment.”

“Hoho!”

“Mulan, you're engaged!”

She sighed, continuing towards her room instead of answering her mother.  It was only as she was getting dressed did Mulan think it might have been a good idea to inquire after her betrothed.  But the truth was, she was too excited and happy about seeing her fellow recruit. They hadn't been close friends, but they had been friendly to each other by the time she left.

In the moments when she hadn't been worrying about her appearance or the smell of charred bodies yesterday, she had felt almost relaxed around Ling and helping the villagers of Fudan.  The work wasn't pleasant, but she knew she was doing something useful and appreciated. It was honorable labor.  So was farming, but it didn't call to her like working next to a fellow solider did.  She had been so tempted to drag Ling out this morning for a work out, but had refrained. Seeing him might have her itching for a sword in her hand and a good spar, but revealing how far she had progressed since being dismissed – and she had progressed a lot – wasn't a good idea if she wanted to stay out of Wu Zhong.

Which she did. Sorta. Maybe.

It would be fun and fulfilling to join the army again, but she knew how selfish that thought was. She would never properly fit in, and as a woman Mulan's life was progressing here.  She was engaged! And the lack of her labor on the farm would be more noticeable now. Then, the seeds had been planted and there had been little to do but wait for them to grow.  Now, with harvest around the corner, she was needed at home.

No matter how much her heart screamed it wanted to be somewhere else.

Dressed as a woman, Mulan walked outside.  Her father was throwing the saddle blanket on Khan's back, the stallion standing still as the fabric was slid into its proper place. Zhou's work around the farm might have been decreased, but he still did his best to do his part.  Mulan grabbed the saddle while her father set about slipping Khan's bridle on.

“I do hope, Mulan, that we won't have any more soldiers at our gate.”

“Don't worry, Father. Ling said they were at the Wu Zhong camp, but gave no reason why they would leave it. Soldiers might come to town to help with the patrols, but I'm sure they can spend the night elsewhere.”

“I do not mind giving them a futon to sleep on, but if they were to discover -”

“That my name is Mulan and not Ping, the result would bring dishonor on the family. I know, Father.” She kissed his check before mounting Khan. “I don't want that to happen any more than you do.”

Indulging his daughter's childish need, he placed Mushu behind the saddle and tied him in place with a bit of rope. “If you do not have enough money, you can hold off on the fabric. I do not need a new shirt as much as your mother thinks I do.”

“I'm sure I'll have enough.” 

They walked to the doors and Fa Zhou pulled one in to let her out. “Stay safe, my daughter.”

“You too, Father.”

* * *

 

Fa Zhou's worry about money was unneeded, Mulan returned to the farm with her bags full of everything and a little extra. A replacement incense holder for the shrine, not as nice as Mushu, but another dragon.  Zhou’s worry about soldiers however, was well founded.

When Mulan stepped into the main room, arms full of goods, she saw Captain Li Shang sitting across the table from her father sharing a pot of tea.  She nearly dropped her purchases and stammered “captain” but succeeded in holding her warrior side in check. Controlling the day Mulan proved harder.  She blushed red and quickly scampered into the kitchen.

“One of those pretty boys you were talking about this morning?” Myung asked, stirring rice. When she turned to see the blush on Mulan's face, she amended her comment. “Or maybe the prettiest boy?”

Mulan blushed harder, just as Li came in with more wood for the fire.  Her mother took one look at her face and understood.  She smiled a knowing smile, but it soon dropped from her face. “You are to be poised and perfect tonight, you shouldn't give him a hint that you are anything but a lady. A betrothed lady.”

“Yes, Mama.” She said, blush receding. It would not do for Captain Li Shang to link her actions or mannerisms with Fa Ping.  Mulan started putting away her purchases: oil, tea leaves, rice, candles. “Why is he here?”

Li spoke up. “It was that Chen Ling you brought home. He returned to camp and mentioned you lived in the area and the captain remembered that “Ping's” father was a great general in Army when he was young.  He came to ask your father for advice.”

“Smart boy, respecting his elders,”  Myung tapped the spoon against the rice pot. “Too bad the matchmaker already set up a match, we could have tried to get you with the captain, Mulan.”

Unbidden images of the life she could have with Captain Li filled Mulan’s head. This was a really bad time to be thinking about this, she had to serve him dinner soon!

“I'm...I'm gonna go wash up.”

* * *

Mulan kept quite during dinner, only speaking when asked a question and sitting with a proper straight back. Captain Li and her father filled the meal with conversation, sharing war stories. Mulan hadn't spent much time with the army, but enough to tell parts were edited for the sake of the three women around the table. She'd have to ask her father for the full story later.

Ping came into the conversation during tea.

“I have to admit,” Li Shang said, “I had been expecting to see your son Ping at dinner tonight.” He seemed to miss the collective breath the family took.

Zhou took a stately sip of tea. “He went into town with Mulan today to find workers for the harvest. We have more land then we can plant and harvest and so I hire men twice a year to help out. Ping said he would spend the night in town. If we knew you were coming, I would have insisted he come home tonight.” 

“It is not an important matter, and I did drop by unannounced. I just wished to tell him not to take his...dismissal personally. Some men are not suited for war and can bring more honor to their family at home.”

“That is true. I have always known Ping's talents did not lie with the sword and fighting. I thank you for sending him back to us, I feel it saved his life.”

Li Shang didn't respond, but it was obvious he agreed.

Mulan didn't know if she should be insulted or not.  Okay, so she failed as a solider and was doing much better as a daughter, but she had improved in her training tasks. And as awkward as her time at the camp had been, there were mornings when she woke up thinking she was still there and that her kicking the blankets off was really Mushu yanking them away.  She strangely missed it at times. And who wouldn't take a dismissal based on skills personal?

She tried to hide her feelings by talking a large sip of tea, but ended up burning her tongue.  Mulan jerked the cup away. Fa Li frowned at her. Thankfully, the males hadn't noticed.

“Excuse me, Captain Li,” Fa Myung spoke up, and Mulan looked at her grandmother in horror because she just knew what Myung asked was going to be embarrassing.

Li Shang turned to look at her.

“Our flower, Mulan,” Myung swept an arm in Mulan's direction and Li Shang's eyes flicked to her before returning to Myung, “is betrothed to one of the men who went to the Wu Zhong camp to serve under you. Chen Ling mentioned that many of those who served under you have joined the ancestors.  Could you tell me if her husband to be was one of them?”

“What was his name?”

“Ho Chang.”

The captain's face fell. Mulan looked down at her hands, not sure what to feel. His younger brother's thoughts on Chang had made Mulan edgy about the marriage, but it had just been Chang that put her on edge. The rest of the family seemed nice enough.  The arrangement now would be that Mulan would marry Jhou, a boy of eleven.

Maybe it wasn't that she didn't know what to feel, but that she didn't feel anything. Most of her feelings were wrapped up around the idea of being married, not to whom. So, nothing had changed. She would do her duty as a respectable daughter and marry Jhou.  Aside from his age, he didn't seem that bad, and Mulan could see herself executing some control over him.

Okay, perhaps she did feel a little bit glad at Ho Chang's death, as wrong as that thought felt. While her future had never been bright before her, it did just seem as if it had traded the color of ashes for that of a heavy cloud.  In the future, maybe that color would lighten to a white cloud and dissolve to become the sun. Such things were possible.  Her parents were happy, and they had had a similar arranged marriage.

“I'm sorry,” Captain Li said, turning his full attention to Mulan. “We you fond of him?”

“We never met. The match was made after he left.”

“He was a good man. He fought well.”

Silence settled over the table.  Zhou placed down his cup of tea.  “Come, Captain, and I'll show you to the guest quarters.”

Both men stood and Mulan went about gathering the dinner plates and tea cups. Fa Myung stood with a back cracking stretch and made her way to her room, leaving Mulan and her mother to clean up after dinner. 

“This means I will now marry Ho Jhou,” she said once they were in the kitchen.

“Yes, if we don't find a better match. Jhou will not be of marrying age for a few more years yet. In the meantime, we might find someone able to marry you sooner.”

It stunned her how much that idea affected her. In the few moments between learning of Ho Cheng's death and now, she had crafted a future in her mind revolving around her marriage to Jhou. It wasn't terrible.  In fact, she had grown a bit fond of it. To have such an image shattered, to have to go through the woman's terror of meeting a future family again...

_Be brave._

She forced herself to take a deep lungful of air.  This was her life, the life of a woman in China whose honor depended on the ability to bare and raise sons.  Honor...

“Mama, it was so hard and lucky to have the matchmaker pair me with the Ho family.  If an alternative comes up, they wouldn't be of equal status would they?”

Not that the Ho's were of equal status with the Fa. Zhou's time as a general made the Fas one of the high ranking families in town.

Fa Li stopped rinsing cups. “No. The Hos are the best we can do. And it's quite possible they might want to call it off themselves. By the time their son is of age, your best child bearing years would be almost gone.”

She knew that, but hadn't wanted to think it.

“I'm sorry I'm such a failure, Mama.”

“Oh, Mulan!” Her mother swept her up into a hug. “You may... be a little unconventional, but I don't think you are a failure. China is just not ready for the likes of you. I am sorry I have failed you as a mother, I hadn't properly prepared you for what you needed to do.”

Mulan wiped at her tears with a hand over her mother's back. “Nonsense. You did your best, I just refused to listen to you.  And I regret it.”  

“But you were being you, and seeing you with that type of freedom filled me with joy. I couldn't take that away from you.”

Being you...being herself, doing something that made her happy. Mulan's mind flashed to her morning trainings, her rides with Khan and Cri-Kee and the unmoving Mushu.  The freedom to follow that, to be _that_ Mulan, was quickly slipping away.

She cried harder into her mother's shoulder, the wet stain expanding down Fa Li's back.

* * *

Mulan hadn't gone through her exercises when Ling had stayed the night. But her talk with her mother the night before made Mulan realize how much doing them was important to her and how soon she wouldn't be able to.  So despite Li Shang sharing her roof, she got ready to train. The full get up: clothes, warrior's bun, and bound breasts.

It turned out to be a good idea. The captain, also used to waking early, walked out of the house as Mulan finished her warm up stretches.

“Ping? When did you arrive? Your parents were under the impression you spent the night in town.”

Mulan froze, hands on the ground, butt in the air and she counted off the stretch in her mind. _Think, think!_

“Um...late last night! I have a fondness for my own bed.” It had been ages since she used her mock deep voice. She couldn't see Li Shang's face, couldn’t judge if her disguise held. Mulan decided it did when he started to stretch beside her.

“I'm impressed that you still train. After I dismissed you...”

“Which you were right to do. You made training a habit, and with what happened to Fudan a few days ago I'm glad I've kept it.”

The captain nodded.

Mulan did her stretching routine again, killing time as her former commanding officer went through his.  When he finished, he gave her a playful grin. “What do you think, should we spar?”

Captain Li had done nothing but kick her around at Wu Zhong, winning every practice bout they had. Actually, she had lost every single one she had been in.  Mulan hadn't planned on working on hand-to-hand this morning, it was to be a weighted run and then balance practice on the bridge, but the idea caught hold.  She had no one to spar with. 

“Sure,” she answered, settling into the start position. Front foot pointed at her opponent, back foot perpendicular, turning her body to the side. Her fists came up, her left half an arm in front of her shoulder and her other halfway down her right rib cage.  Li Shang fell into a similar position.

Mulan didn't know if she should throw the first punch or not, but before she could decide Shang threw one and she brushed it aside with her right forearm. She followed through with a punch from her other hand, catching the bone of his hip as he moved out of the way.

He used his momentum to complete a 180 pivot and kick her with the flat of his foot. She went down, but rolled back up into the start position.

Shang gave her an appreciative look. “You've improved.” 

“Thank you. I'm been following the training schedule you lead us through at camp. It's really thanks to your planning instead of myself that I've gotten better.”

He brushed off the polite speech, his look telling her Shang thought the opposite. It was her own personal improvement that amazed him, not the training. Mulan had to admit, back at camp, she usually went down at the first strike and rarely popped back up.

They sparred for a few rounds, Mulan losing all but one, but she lasted longer than she had during any she was involved in at Wu Zhong.  Her reflexes were better, enabling her to see and counter attacks, as was her stamina and balance.  She had always thought smart, knowing it was to her advantage to have the sun in the eyes of her opponent had her changing the field many times so the captain had to squint into the dawn. Of course, he always reversed it.

She narrowed her eyes against the sun, trying to figure out where the next attack would come from. Mulan could tell the difference between a kick and a punch, but was having a hard time determining the target area. It was hard to read the face of a silhouette, no eye glances to give her clue, and the bright sun made it hard to notice subtle shifts in weight.

She tried though, until something about the sunrise caught her eye.  Every day it was different, a wonder to behold in glimpses between concentrating on her body, but she felt she knew the light well enough to pick out patterns. A gentle lightening, from black velvet to navy blue until it melted into pink, then orange, then yellow as the sun appeared. Once the star was halfway risen, a clear blue would bleed into the sky.

Right now, Mulan knew she should be looking at pink, not orange. And that wasn't a nice looking cloud on the horizon.

Due to her distraction, Li Shang delivered a hard blow to her cheek.  She went down, reeling from the unexpected hit.

“Ping, you can't become distracted during a fight.”

“I was trying to understand my surroundings. Something isn't right.”

She walked up the hill to where the shrine sat and looked east.  Now that the house wasn't in the way of her view, she could tell exactly what it was. Fire. The fields were on fire.

“Captain!” she called out and he raced up the hill to stand next to her. 

The fires were young, small enough to put out at the moment, but Mulan knew that wouldn't happen. The Huns had lit the fields just beyond where her father's wheat began, but as she watched the fire jumped and crackled. They had picked a good spot to start a fire, right in the center of the east fields. Soon they would all be ablaze, the lack of rain making the crops easy fodder for the flames.  Even as they stood there watching, the wheat she had helped plant caught fire.

But fire wasn't the only thing they had to worry about. Mulan could see riders on short stocky ponies on the flames edge. While it would be hard to survive a year without the crop, it was doable.  A Hun attack would be much more devastating.

“I'll never get to my troops in time,” Li said. “Is there a city watch or meeting place for the men in case of an attack?”

“The main road, where it intersects with the one leading to market!” Mulan yelled over her shoulder. She sprinted towards the house. She had to warn her family, had to prepare to fight. Captain Li might want to wait till he had men, farm boys as they might be, but that would take time. Before he would be ready the farm would be set upon. It was one of the dangers of living on the outskirts, never mind the walls around the front of the compound.

“Huns!” Mulan yelled, running through the house and only stopping before the wardrobe housing the armor.

As she tied the plated skirt around her waist Zhou limped in. “Mu-” he stopped as Li Shang ran past the doorway, heading towards his own room and the battle gear inside. “Ping. What is going on?”

“Huns. They lit the fields on fire. They're on mounts and will be here soon.” 

Mulan struggled with the shoulder armor, but her father came up to help her. Then her mother was on the other side helping with the other shoulder. Li’s fingers were trembling.

“You need to get out of here,” Mulan said, bucking her sword. “I'll do what I can to hold them off.” 

“You can't fight them, Mulan,” Li whispered under her breath. “You don't have a chance.”

“Don't underestimate our daughter.” Zhou held out the helmet.

Mulan shook her head, it blocked her vision too much and the smoke would be bad enough.

She wanted to say something to her parents, about how much she loved them, to not look back, to pray for her, to leave and leave now! But there wasn't any time. She gave them both a quick kiss on the cheek before sprinting to the stable.

Her grandmother had thought ahead and prepared Khan.  No saddle, but he had his bridle on. The captain was in the stable as well, fully armored and fastening the cinch on his stallion. He dressed quickly, especially for doing it without help.  He must be used to quickly responding to threats.

Mulan bent down to kiss Myung. “Leave now.”

Myung gave her granddaughter a quick hug. “Be safe.”

She couldn’t promise that.

Mulan swung up on Khan, the stallion's prancing calming just enough to allow her to.  She was ready to go, but Myung still held the bit. “Grandmother, I need to go!”

“Take this with you.” She picked up something metal from a nearby pile of hay.

Mushu. Cri-kee sleeping on the gong.

The feeling of serious trouble coming her way, of needing everyone who had helped her before, vanished. Instead, Mulan felt numb. She didn't feel nervous, or on edge. She didn't even feel scared. But she knew, as soon as she left the stable yard, the feelings would flood her. This was just the eye of the storm of trouble she had been feeling and in seconds it would pass.

Mulan said thank you with her eyes, there was no time for words, and kicked Khan into a gallop towards the fields. Captain Li shouted after her, something about being stupid and coming back, but she ignored him. He wasn't her captain, not technically, so she didn't have to obey his commands.  She followed a deeper, more instinctual order that only belonged to women. Men honored honor, the idea of respect. But women. To women, family was everything. Their lives revolved around it, from doing right by your parents to doing right by your husband. Family was everything, you had to protect it.

As she rode towards the flames, Mushu's back in her hands as they gripped the reins, the dragon began to get hot.

* * *

Mulan tried not to think about how stupid she was behaving. One soldier against a dozen Huns? And not even a fully trained soldier. She didn't even have on a full set of armor, having skipped the chest plate for the sake of time.  Plus, all her horseman skills with a sword she made up as she rode through the fields. 

Okay, Mushu helped.  The dragon had recognized the danger she was heading into, woke, and now sat between Khan's ears giving her directions.

“Now remember, strike down. You're taller than them. And aim for weak points in the armor. The neck would be easiest to reach, I think. And don't forget Bessy here is a weapon too. He has some nasty kicks I've had the misfortune to be on the receiving end on.”

Khan didn't even acknowledge the dragon's murder of his name. Mulan could tell that Khan, like herself and Cri-Kee, were happy to have Mushu back.  She felt it in the loosening of the stallion's withers just as the incense holder turned from metal to flesh. Cri-Kee chirped happily from Mulan’s topknot. Mulan spared Mushu a smile, but stayed tense on Khan’s back.

The Huns had spotted her almost as soon as she had entered the fields and came charging toward her. 

Ten paces now.

“Thank you for coming, Mushu. With you here, I can get through this.”

“No problem, baby girl.”

Six paces.

The other steeds were breathing hard, and the smoke was close enough Mulan's eye's stung.

Two paces.

The heat of the burning wheat washed over her.

One pace.

She raised her sword.


	2. Fight

The ancestors must have been looking out for her, because she survived the first clash.  Khan reared at just the right moment and Mulan swung her blade while he came down. The extra height added force to her blow, and her sword slashed into the Hun's shoulder.  They were dressed in furs and leather, even this far south from their northern homes. Her sword had no trouble finding skin.

Khan neighed and side-stepped, saving Mulan's thigh from an ax.  Of the twelve Huns she had charged toward, four stayed to fight her while the others continued past. She had to quickly take care of these four, well three now, and rush home.

The three uninjured riders circled Khan. Khan, Mushu, and Mulan kept an eye on one each.  The one she was watching charged and she knocked his sword aside. At the same time, however, another Hun rushed her back. The smell of sulfur informed Mulan Mushu had released a flame, but it didn't prevent the blow to the back of her left shoulder. She could feel blood dripping, her shoulder plates sliding down since the strap holding it had been cut.

The Hun who delivered the blow frantically patted the side of his tunic, which was on fire. His pony reared, scared of the flames, and took off. The Hun fell and started rolling amongst the dirt. Mulan turned away when the flames jumped from the wheat to the Hun.

The third Hun charged. Khan whirled and delivered a kick to the shorter horse's middle that resulted in a crack. Whether it was the rider's leg or the horse's ribs, Mulan didn't know, but the horse went down and Khan took the opportunity to stomp on the Hun's head.  Mulan briefly caught a glimpse of the burning Hun, he was on the ground and not moving.

Too busy brushing sweat from her eyes, Mulan didn’t notice the first Hun returning. Cri-Kee trilled in alarm, and Mulan brought her sword up just in time. The cricket ran along Mulan’s arm and landed on the Hun's mustache to give it a mighty yank. The pain caused the Hun to halt his strike, swinging his sword up instead of down.

Mulan didn't think.  Training at the camp had made it instinctual to go for the weak points. Mulan thrust her sword through his neck.

She pulled it out and spun Khan towards home in one move.

Mushu settled on her shoulder as she chased down the other eight riders. “You've got blood on your face,” he said, bringing up a claw to wipe some of it off.

She squinted her eyes closed for just a second. “I know, but I can't think about that now.”  Her first kill, followed quickly by her second. She always knew that fighting in the army was about killing the enemies of China. But actually taking a life... how easy it had been...

Those were thoughts for later.

“I'm glad you're back,” she told Mushu and the small dragon curled around her neck. A scaly necklace.

“Never truly left. I could hear you sometimes.”

She let go of the reins briefly to scratch his scales, then grabbed the leather again. “It wasn't the same.”

“No, it wasn't.”

A blaze of flame erupted in front of them and Mulan knew it was her house.  Had everyone made it out okay?

Khan extended his gallop and Mulan could feel his fear. The farm was his home as much as hers.

She burst into the yard to find it hadn't been the house, it was the stable, flames licking up its sides. Two Hun ponies stood shifting their weight in front of the house. Sounds from inside made her think the northern riders were looking for valuables. 

Mulan dismounted, intent on sneaking up on the Huns when a wail went up from the stable.  She had never heard that particular sound before, that tone of pain and death, but she knew immediately who it belonged to it.

Fa Myung. Her grandmother.

With a cry, Mulan pivoted towards the stable, but Mushu's slight coil around her neck and the whispered words in her ear had her stop. “You can't do anything, baby girl. Even if you pulled her free, she would still die.”

“She can die with family by her side.”

Cri-Kee started jumping on her nose, making noises she couldn't quite translate.

“He says if you go in there, his luck won't bring you out. You can't help Myung. Go help your father.”

“My -” but before she could finish her question she heard her father roar.

“Go!” he shouted to someone, in a firmer, more authoritative voice than the tone Zhou used in telling her to do her chores. It spoke of years of command and knowing your orders will be obeyed.  Who was he yelling at?

She ran towards his voice, out of the gates and into the street.  Khan ran ahead of her and started fighting before she took in the situation. 

Her father was surrounded by half a dozen mounted Huns, wielding a kitchen knife like a dagger and blood dripping down his bad leg.  A wagon filled with people headed toward the center of town behind him. Mulan made out her mother's face, before turning around and joining the fray.

“Mulan!” her father shouted as she slipped between two Huns to stand back-to-back with her father.

“Father, are you alright?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

“Mulan. Isn't that a woman's name?” One of the Huns sneered.

Mulan felt all their attention shift to her. It sent a prickle running down her spine. She was no longer just a warrior fighting against them, she was a _woman_ warrior and that shift in their knowledge made her more fearful.

One of the Huns charged at her, the pony's teeth bared in equal brutality to its rider. Mushu launched himself at the pony’s face, spitting fire, and the Hun fell to a double attack from Mulan and Khan.  Her sword bit deep into the Hun’s calf, the stallion's hooves catching him in the shoulder and knocking him to the ground inches from Fa Zhou.

Her father stabbed the Hun in the throat.  This time, Mulan could hear the death gurgle.

It served as an unspoken cue.  The five Huns attacked and Mulan and Zhou were vastly out matched. They were on the ground fighting mounted warriors, and both injured. Mulan's shoulder screamed at her.  Each swing of her sword caused pain, and the one time she tried to mount Khan she failed. Her arm could handle the weight of a sword, not her body to pull herself up.

A Hun rushed from the right, sword biting into her other shoulder and relieving her of the other piece of shoulder armor. The pain had her gasp and momentarily drop her to her knees. Khan shoved off an attack from the other side, and Mushu scampered over to her from trying to cause the ponies to trip.

Zhou whirled around at Mulan’s gasp, leaving him exposed to the hooves of a rearing pony. 

“Father!” she had time to scream before he slumped forward, blood flowing from his head.

Behind him, Mulan saw a white stallion. Captain Li. Further out came the men of the village at a charge.  Help was coming.

With a roar, Mulan whirled around with her sword raised. Khan fought with a mountain pony, its rider crawling away with an injured leg. Mulan raised her sword to stab his belly, but something knocked her in the head first.

She thought she heard someone yell her name just before her head hit the ground.

* * *

Li Shang thought one of the problems Fa Ping had at the Wu Zhong camp had been an inability to listen to directions. He couldn't do the drills properly, not simply because of a lack of talent, but because hints and tips escaped his ears. If he couldn't obey commands during training, he wasn't likely to obey commands in battle. 

His suspicions were confirmed when Ping hopped on his horse and rode straight for the Huns.

Ping had guts and bravery to spare, Shang would give him that, but not an ounce of common sense.  Despite the impressive amount of improvement he had made, he still did not have a chance.

Well, if Ping was going to ride to his death, he was welcome to. 

Shang was tempted to kick his own steed into speed to ride beside his old recruit, but knew there was more important things to do. As much as he wanted to ride into battle, to protect a fellow solider – even if Ping no longer served under him – protecting one life wasn't as important as saving a village.

He spun his stallion to face the door.  Fa Li forced it open, and as soon as it was wide enough Shang took off.

“Huns! Huns!” he shouted as he galloped down the main road.  His voice wasn't the only one raising the alarm, others had seen the fire. No one else knew about the approaching riders, however. It seemed the Huns, just a dozen strong, only rode on the Fa family farm.

When Shang reading the intersection Ping had said served as a meeting place, there were twenty men milling about. Some had swords, others kitchen knives. One had a shovel, another a blacksmith's hammer.  Another was mounted, but the horse looked overworked from pulling heavy wagons. It wouldn't be much of an advantage in a fight.

He circled them at a trot, Samala tossing his head in time with his shouts.  “I am Captain Li Shang, a commander of the Emperor's army!” He supposed, with all the deaths of the high ranking officers, he held the rank of general now. Maybe the only one.  Shang hadn't come across other regiments of the army. But it seemed wrong to think of himself as anything other than a captain. He hadn't earned the title of general, just filled one of the many holes in the ranks.

“Huns have lit your fields on fire, and are riding towards your homes this very minute. Their numbers are small, but one Hun warrior is strong. They were riding toward the homes on the northern end of town, but if we move fast we can turn them back. You with the horse, ride towards the closest village to tell them what is happening. You,” he pointed towards woman nervously standing in front of a shop. “Have someone get a message to the Wu Zhong camp. The rest of you, follow me!”

Shang turned Samala back towards the Fa farm, doing his best not to think of what he would find. He kept the stallion at a short trot, moving quickly but saving Samala’s stamina. It also won't do for Shang to leave his temporary troops in the dust.  He knew how common people worked, an image of authority and potential success did wonders to motivate them. If he got far enough ahead, he was sure there would be a man or two who decided to return home and flee.  Shang couldn't lose a man, each one counted.

He tried not to think of Ping, that foolish solider wannabe who had no place in battle. Or of his father, Fa Zhou, with his limp and obvious inability to hold a sword even if Ping hadn't taken off with it.  Of Zhou’s wife, his mother, and his daughter Fa Mulan who had no battle experience. 

Four people whose deaths he would haunt him tonight, just like those of all the men he had led to their deaths storming the Imperial City in a failed effort to win it back from Shan Yu. Death, death, and more death. He was sick of it. Shang couldn't tell if he was following it or if death was following him, but they were well acquainted.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the men following him, Shang couldn't help but wonder how many of them would be dead by the end of the day. How many would be injured.  If the number was no more than half, he would be thankful.  Shang would prefer none were harmed, but war wasn't like that. He hadn't gotten anything he wanted since his father promoted him to captain.  And what he wanted now, peace, an end to the fighting, China the way it used to be, was something he doubted he would ever get.

A wagon went rushing past, an ox in the hitch instead of a horse.  He didn't give much thought to the fact that he had never seen an ox do anything more than a slow plod before.  What did catch his attention were the people in the back of the wagon. Fa Li sat amongst them, pale and weeping.

Samala rounded the corner. Shang could see a commotion at the end of the road and he urged the stallion into a gallop. As he got closer, he could make out the fight. It was Fa Ping and Fa Zhou, fighting alongside their horse, and holding off five Huns.

Part of his mind wondered at the random bursts of fire in the fight. Another was trying to figure out where the rest of the Huns were, he had counted twelve before. But Shang’s main concern was the battle in front of him.  One of his men, Ping, was fighting. A war veteran, Fa Zhou, was fighting. Soldiers. Comrades.

Shang pulled out his sword, yelling. Telling the Huns they would soon die, telling the Fas help was on the way.

But even as Samala thundered down the road Shang could see he was too late. Ping fell, Fa Zhou was struck from behind. Ping received another blow, and then, surprisingly, was thrown over the back of a Hun pony. 

The single Hun, carrying Ping, took off down the road, exiting the town, then cut across fields. Shang wanted to follow, but there were three Hun horsemen in his way. No, five. Two more came streaming from the Fa's gate and Shang tried to ignore the smoke rising from the compound. A whinny announced a second pair of Huns, charging through the gate of the compound across the street.

Shang felt Samala bare his teeth. The stallion bit at the first pony they came across. Shang looked over at Khan, Ping's horse, and found him standing guard over Fa Zhou and holding his own against three Huns.

Shang dove into battle with the closest rider. He brought up his sword to attack, but the pony moved and his sword bite horse instead of human flesh. The mount reared in pain, and Shang took the opportunity to slice the Hun's belly.

A sword slashed at his saddle, cutting clean through the cinch, and the saddle tipped to one side. Shang fell from Samala, and in the panic of trying to get away from the bunch of leather and cloth, the stallion stomped on Shang's left hand. Pain shot up his fingers, a few were most certainly broken, but he didn't have the time to contemplate that as he rolled to the side to avoid being trampled by a Hun steed.

Then, the villagers arrived.

There was a brief fury of battle, Shang was impressed by the blacksmith's hammer blow to a pony's skull.  It was easy to tell who had some fighting experience, perhaps military training from the past, as they didn't hesitate to deal death to a downed Hun.  Others simply trembled, or only attacked to defend. Two ponies escaped the melee, one carrying a slumped rider. The rest of the small force of Huns went down.

It felt good, watching a group of men he led eradicate an enemy. Except, a few Huns had taken off before, Ping with them.

Shang made his way to Fa Zhou’s prone form. The older man bled from wounds on his leg and head, but Shang could tell the old general was still alive by the pulse in his neck.

Khan snorted nearby, worried, and Shang placed a hand on his foreleg to calm the black stallion. “He'll be fine if we get him to a doctor.”

Understanding, the stallion folded his legs and sank to the ground. Shang carefully moved Fa Zhou onto the stallion's back, bracing him as Khan stood up. “Take him to the healer.”

Khan looked towards the Fa farm and gave a sad whicker.

“I'll find the rest of your family,” Shang promised, feeling both silly for talking to a horse as if he could understand and wondering if Samala could ever show such intelligence in the future.

The horse looked at him for a moment but started plodding down the road toward the center of town. 

At this point, Shang realized he was surrounded by dead Huns and villagers still looking for direction. Samala trotted over, Shang noticed the shallow cut on his side, and Shang mounted the stallion to sit bareback.

“Well done, men! We've chased off the Huns and prevented them from attacking the village.” There was the snap of a roof beam and Shang watched the Fa stable collapse, undermining his words. “The only damage has been to these two farms. Search for survivors and put out those flames.” 

With his sword, he drew a line between the men. “You, over there. And the rest of you, other there.” Shang directed the two groups to the farms on either side.

Shang led the way into the Fa compound, already dreading what he would see. He had enjoyed tea in the company of a beautiful woman, spent the night here, and had trained on these grounds with Ping barely an hour ago.  He had wondered what Fa Mulan would look like if she gave him a smile, was curious if Ping had advanced in other grounds of his training.

Now a raging flame ate the stable, and orange light flickered in the windows of the main building. The grass was scorched, but in some strange twist of fate the koi pond, bridge, and shrine were untouched.  If the house fire could be contained quickly enough, the sleeping quarters and grain storage could be saved. Shang threw himself into work. 

Please ancestors, let him accomplish something good for this family.

* * *

As the sun set, Shang made his way to the center of town.  There, he got directions to the healer taking care of Fa Zhou.  Shang smelled of smoke and fire, his hands burnt. Samala trudged the walk of an ox who had spent days furrowing fields.  Being in constant demand to pull beams and rubble would have that effect on any mount.

Shang didn't want to do anything but find a place to sleep and mourn the dead.  But first, he needed to talk to the Fas.

He knocked on the door to the small room the healer pointed him towards. Fa Li opened it, her face gaunt with worry. 

“Captain Li, thank you for saving my husband.”

But not her mother-in-law. Or son. Or daughter.

“It is not his time to join your ancestors.”

Fa Li opened the door all the way and gestured for Shang to enter.  Fa Zhou lay on a cot, awake, with bandages around his head and leg.

“Fa Zhou,” Shang said, bowing.

The ex-general bowed his head in return, not able to get up. “I must thank you for your help today, Captain Li.”

“I only wish I could have arrived quicker.”

“Please, sit.” Fa Li gestured towards the one chair next to the cot, but Shang refused the offer. She sat down instead.

“I assume you came for a reason,” Fa Zhou said.

“Yes. I have just returned from your farm. The stable and main building will need to be rebuilt, but we managed to save the shrine, kitchen, your storage shed and half of your sleeping quarters from the fire. You mother, Fa Myung, we found... her body in the remains of the stable. I regret to say, we have found no sign of Fa Mulan.  As for Ping, I do not understand why the Huns would carry him off.”

Fa Zhou looked over at his wife, the poor woman wringing her hands, but none of what Shang said seemed to surprise Fa Li or Fa Zhou. No, it was something else that passed between the couple, some conversation from earlier they now re-discussed silently.

Eventually, Fa Zhou broke eye contact with a sigh and returned his attention to Shang.

“Captain Li, you will find no trace of Mulan. For she and Ping are the same person. To save my life, she disguised herself as a boy and answered the Emperor's draft in my stead.  It is my daughter who you trained, and it was my daughter who was taken away today.  You saved her once, sending her back home.  I ask you, Captain Li Shang, to please save her again from the Huns for I feel she is in more danger now than she was in your camp.”

Fa Ping...and Fa Mulan? The same person? The solider who couldn't spit, who had more bravery than common sense, who he had sent home, yet continued to train? The woman who had poured tea after dinner last night, who had sat and listened in a way Ping never did?

Shang's brain spun, how could one person have such completely different sides? How had she fooled him, fooled the camp? And how stupid was she for having tried!

But looking at Fa Zhou, weakened on the cot, he realized she had done the only thing she could to protect her family.  Family above honor, how womanly.  But this woman, she could fight like a man. 

And now, she was in the hands of the enemy.  Something about her had drawn their attention, just as it had held Shang’s this morning as they sparred. 

He couldn't help but think that Fa Zhou was right.  Fa Mulan had risked death going to the Wu Zhong camp, but right now she might be in greater danger.  If Shang had discovered her secret during training, the law would have him grant her a swift death.  Shan Yu's Huns would not be as merciful.

Shang should have thought about it before making his decision, but the feelings that had swept over him when he watched Ping – Mulan –  rush into the fields on Khan, and later fight in the street, filled him again.  Ping was a brave, but stupid, soldier.  His soldier.  So was Mulan.

The hopeful look on Mulan's parent's faces encouraged his impulsiveness.

“I will do everything in my power to help your daughter.”

* * *

Leaving the healers, Shang ran into two of his own men – Chien-Po and Yao.  The villager had made it to Wu Zhong camp and brought all of the regiment, or what was left of it, back with him.  Missing the fighting, they had helped the villagers control the flames eating the crops. 

“Soldiers, report.”

Both did their best to stand up straight, even if Yao had to lean on Chien-Po to do so.

“Captain,” Chien-Po answered, “we managed to save the house, but the Huns...while the wife and three children were able to escape the Huns killed the husband and eldest son.”

Shang closed his eyes. Really, at this point, the idea of death should not affect him so.  He had seen so much this year.

“Sleep well tonight, we'll be meeting in the morning.  We have a mission.”

“A mission, captain?”

Yao managed to push himself away from Chien-Po's belly at the idea of taking action, not simply responding to the destruction the Huns left in their wake.

“A rescue mission.  One of the villagers was taken.”

“Ping, right?”

Shang raised an eyebrow at Yao's question. He sounded almost concerned. Shang didn't recall Ping and Yao being on good terms. 

“It's just that,” Yao went on, “Ling mentioned he lived here, and we haven't seen him. It makes sense. Of course, it's odd that no one's even heard of him.”

Right. Ping was actually Mulan.  It was a mercy she hadn't been found out at camp. 

Shang suddenly realized how often he had taken his shirt off in the two weeks Ping-Mulan had been at Wu Zhong.

He shook his head to clear that thought.

“Yes, it's Ping. We'll meet at the Fa farm in the morning.  The Huns have been staying in the area longer than we expected, they must have a camp set up nearby.  I'm tired of chasing them, it's about time we attacked first.”

Both men grinned at the prospect of a fight. Too long had they been arriving at villages too late to do much good. 

“We'll let the others know.” Yao cracked a fist in anticipation.

* * *

 

Mulan woke up when one of the Huns threw her onto the ground.  Pain exploded in her head, leaving her too weak to fight as she was dragged into a tent. 

“What is this? I didn't ask for prisoners.”

“We thought this one was interesting.”

Someone yanked her head back by her hair, and Mulan found herself staring at a Hun.  Long, ratty black hair. A mean face.  He gave her a quick look before releasing his grip.

“A soldier. We see them every day.”

“This is a girl soldier. Who killed several riders.”

The Hun leader didn't look sure. Mulan thanked her willowy build and foresight to bind her breasts this morning.

“We checked,” the warrior said with a leer.

Mulan wondered how long she had been unconscious and how through the check.

“Well then,” the Hun leader said, “this is an interesting prisoner.”

He sank into a squat and Mulan glared at him from her position on the floor.  She flinched as he brushed a stray bit of hair out of her face. 

“I'm curious as to why a Chinese woman would be dressed as a soldier, how she got a hold of armor, and learned how to wield a sword.  But we'll find out tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.  Or not all, depending on what happens later because it would not bother me if my curiosity isn't filled.  See, tonight we are mourning the Huns you have killed, and drink and battle make us lustful.  I do hope you've been taught how to please a man, because depending on how you do, you may not see the sun rise tomorrow.”

The Hun kicked her in the ribs and the warrior who had brought her into the tent dragged her out.  Mulan found herself forced to kneel on the ground with her back against a wooden pole.  The Hun tied her to the pole.

“I hope you're a virgin,” The Hun said, and walked away leaving Mulan to sit in the sun.

The sun wasn't near its zenith and her grumbling stomach told her it was after lunch. Mulan wished desperately for a sip of water, or a bit of shade.  The sun was hot, the blood on her clothes was stiff, and the press of her shoulder wounds against the pole burned.  She wished she had Khan’s finite muscle control to shake off the flies that gathered near her blood. Mulan could blow away the ones attracted to the wound on her leg, but the feeling of small feet on her back aggravated her.   Thoughts of infection crossed her mind, but they were always followed by the idea that it was possible she'd die of something else sooner.

Mulan promised herself not to cry, or think of home. Of who had possibly survived or died. Such thoughts did nothing but bring pain and she wanted to keep a straight face for as long as possible in front of the Huns. The fur covered fighters kept looking at her, but none had approached.

She desperately wanted Mushu there with her. Or Cri-kee. Or Khan.  She had felt invincible riding into the fields when they were all together, and while Mulan knew from her current predicament that wasn't true, she still missed their presence.  Khan could have brushed the flies away, Cri-kee could have pressed against her side and gathered leaves of water, Mushu could have burnt through the rope tying her up and she wouldn't have complained about the blisters.

But most of all, she wouldn't be alone.

At the Wu Zhong camp with the presence of war looming over her head, she knew she was surrounded by brothers just as scared to die, but being with them brought her courage. They would die in combat together, and that made her feel brave if not safe.  And back at the farm, thinking about her future, she had found bravery in the centuries of women before her who married men they did not know.  But now, tied up and on display in the middle of a Hun military camp, Mulan had nothing she could rely on to gather her courage.  

Mulan expected to die in a few hours, alone and used and terrified.  No one would know how she died. She held back tears. Her family would not blame her for it, the Huns no doubt expected her to, but Mulan could not imagine Ling crying. Or Yao or Chien-Po and certainly not Captain Li.  She would not disgrace the last of the Imperial Army, not dressed as they were and not currently alive thanks to Captain Li's training.

Right now, she wasn't Mulan the farm girl, but Mulan the solider also known as Ping. And though she was terrified she was not going let the enemy know. 

She spent the day looking at her knees and ignoring the flies.

There was no funeral pyre that evening, there were no bodies to burn as the living Huns had made no effort to bring their dead back to the camp.  Instead the deceased's belongings were thrown into a bonfire.  The Huns sang a hymn honoring the dead, then began to cook over the flames while the leader said something along the lines of the fallen still participating in the meal.

When he finished talking, they came for her.

Mulan felt her shoulder wounds reopen as she was pulled away from the post, the pins and needles in her legs from the returned circulation. Her head swarmed with the dizziness of blood loss and dehydration. With her disorientation came the knowledge that all her fantasies of putting up a fight were nothing more than that. She was in no condition to walk straight, let alone fight.  All she could do was glare and swear, her mouth too dry to spit.

They dragged her to the cooking fire, she could feel the heat and the smoke made her choke. The leader ran his knife along her side, cutting through the straps that kept her armor on.  He tossed the metal aside and began attacking her training clothes, slitting her shirt, pants and band. Before he could rip the fabric completely off, the fire exploded upward into the sky.

The cook reeled back, screaming at his burning hands while other Huns nearby stepped away to avoid the sudden heat and multitude of sparks.  Despite her proximity to the flames, Mulan was spared the touch of sparks and just felt the rise in heat.  The Hun leaning over her wasn't so lucky, part of his pants caught on fire and he stood to beat out the flames.

Then, Mulan heard the best thing in the world.

“You step away from my girl!”

Mushu, tiny, lizard like Mushu, strolled out of the fire with all the presence of a dragon a hundred times his age and size.

He gingerly climbed onto her bowed shoulder and ignoring her bare skin. “This girl is under my protection and anyone who wants to so much as look at her wrong has to go through me.” 

The fire behind him rose and smoke drifted out of his nostrils. 

Some of the Huns laughed. How could a small lizard not even a foot long, pose a threat to a circle of armed warriors?  The fire was a scare tactic, Mulan knew. The Huns recognized it as well.

Someone drew a bow and notched an arrow. “Should I add the snake to the pot, Mentu?”

But the Hun leader went pale as he looked at Mushu. Pale and thoughtful.  He strode to the archer and knocked the bow out of his hand. “Are you blind? That's no snake! It's a dragon!  The same as on the Imperial Seal.”

“So?”

“So, we need to take her to Shan Yu, as whole as possible.  Take her to my tent, and be ready to break camp tomorrow morning.”

There was a bit of grumbling, but eventually a Hun approached Mulan. Mushu hissed as he approached, but allowed it once he dropped the dagger on his belt.  Mulan was taken to the tent she had first met the Hun leader, Mentu, and dropped unceremoniously onto a pile of furs.  Mushu, who had ridden on her shoulder the entire time, sent the Hun off with small bout of flame.

As soon as they were alone, Mushu ran the back of a claw down Mulan's cheek in an affection gesture. “Aw honey, I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner.  Your cow couldn't come. Bad leg.”

“You-” her voice cracked and Mulan licked her lips before trying again. “You came right on time, Mushu.”

His face said he thought otherwise.  Mushu opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Mentu entering the tent with medical supplies. Under Mushu's angry watch, he washed and wrapped Mulan's wounds.  She was surprised by how gentle he was. Not half an hour ago he had no concern about hurting her, and Mulan suspected the change in attitude was thanks to her guardian.  Mentu took great care too not look at her face, and when it became obvious it was too painful for Mulan to lift her arms to put on a new shirt, he draped a fur over her back.  He asked after her comfort, helped her drink a skin of wine, and left her a bit of bread. 

Despite Mulan knowing that she sat in his tent, she got the impression Mentu would to sleep elsewhere that night.

It's only after the Hun has left, that Mulan scooped up Mushu and placed a kiss on each cheek before holding him tightly to her chest.

“Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.  The bug helped a lot too you know, managed to hitch us a ride on a goat for a bit.” 

A chirp directed Mulan’s gaze to Cri-Kee, slipping in under the tent’s wall. When the cricket was close enough, Mulan bent over and kissed Cri-Kee’s head.

“I thought you couldn't show yourself to anyone else, Mushu.” Mulan snuggled into the furs, sleep pulling her down. She had been wanting to shut her eyes for over an hour now, but refused to do so with Mentu in the tent.  Now that it was just her and her friends, she indulged in a conversation with her eyes closed.

Mushu brought the covers up a bit more on her shoulders.

“I couldn't just let them hurt you. And I'll admit, I was worried they really were gonna cook me into some type of soup.  But hey, you're safe and when you're better we'll give them the slip. How's that sound?”

Mulan wanted to answer that it sounded perfect, but she was too tired.  She fell asleep instead.

* * *

Mulan had no chance to sneak away from the Huns. 

She’d been forcibly woken by Mentu shaking her shoulders, who then tossed her a set of clothes. Sleepy, sore, and stiff, it had been difficult to get into a shirt. If she wasn’t going to be leaving the tent, Mulan would have been happy wearing the fur as a cloak.

Mentu handed her a plate of food, watched her eat, then took her out of the tent to a covered horse cart. “You’ll ride here.”

“I can ride a horse,” Mulan said.

“And kick it to a gallop to escape? No. You’ll ride here.” As Mentu spoke, a Hun warrior walked up to the cart with an armful of furs and began lying them over the back of the cart.

“I don’t understand. I’m your prisoner, why are you treating me so kindly?”

Mentu looked at Mushu, openly sitting on Mulan’s shoulder. “You’re favored by the gods. We will not anger them, now get in.” He shoved Mulan gently toward the cart and watched as she struggled to pull herself in.

Once settled on the furs, with snacks for the journey arranged around her, the Huns began to fill the cart with a variety of supplies. Stolen food, extra weapons, cooking utensils, tents, and furs. They boxed Mulan in on all sides, making it impossible for her to leave the cart without either destroying the wooden wall at her back or moving all the items packed around her.

Mulan sat there in the dark, watching the night sky slowly lighten into dawn through the gaps between supplies. Shortly after yellow streaked the sky, the cart jolted forward and the Huns began marching.

“Mushu,” Mulan said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not really blessed by the gods, am I?”

Mushu climbed up onto her knee. “You could be, you’ve escaped some close calls, little lady. But I’m not god sent, I’m ancestor sent. Though,” he tailed off, scratching his belly.

“Though?”

“I can understand the Huns’ confusion. The emperor is gods blessed. He rules China because the gods deem him a worthy ruler for the people. He serves as their voice here on earth.”

“The emperor is dead, Mushu.”

“Yes. Proof, you could say, that he no longer has the god’s favor. His divine right to rule expired.”

“They’ve chosen Shan Yu to rule instead?” Mulan reeled back. “I can’t believe that.”

“I don’t speak to the gods, I’m just a guardian spirit, but I side with you on this one. The emperor might have lost the gods favor, but Shan Yu doesn’t have it either.”

“So who does?”

“That’s the question, ain’t it? But the thing is, dragons have been the empire’s symbol for centuries.”

“Mushu! You’re a dragon!”

“Yes, I have noticed.”

“No,” Mulan shook her head. “Because you’re a dragon, and you’re with me, they think I have the gods’ favor.”

“Yes,” Mushu drew out, “I figured that one out.”

“And because I have the gods’ favor, I’m who the gods want to rule China.”

Mushu burst out laughing. “You!” he brushed tears from his eyes, “Rule China! Those are big dreams, baby girl, but I don’t think you’re up for it.”

“Neither do I,” Mulan smiled back at him. “But if that’s what the Huns think…it would explain why they’re being nice.”

“I think you’re right, Mulan.”

Cri-Kee chirped, jumping up and down on Mulan’s other knee.

“What’s this?” Mushu translated. “You think Mulan would make a great emperor? You forget, bug, she’s a girl.”

Cri-Kee pouted.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Mulan told the cricket. “But I don’t want to be emperor. I just want to China to be safe. To be safe myself. Shan Yu’s men are doing nothing but terrorizing the country. And if I can trick the Huns, trick Shan Yu, into thinking Mushu is indeed a messenger of the gods- “

“You can take out Shan Yu,” Mushu finished, rubbing his claws together. “I like that. I like that very much. I knew you’d save China one day.”

Mulan blushed at the praise. “It requires your help. Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Mushu placed his claw on top of Mulan’s hand before turning to Cri-Kee. “What about you, bug?”

Chirping, Cri-Kee jumped over so he sat atop Mushu’s claw.

“For China,” Mulan said, scooping up her friends to cup them against her cheek.


	3. City Life

Four days, Mulan sat in the back of the cart. When the Huns stopped for the night, she slipped out a small hole behind the driver to relieve herself before returning to her corner of furs. Food she took from the supplies around her and she spent the time conversing with Mushu about how to convince Shan Yu she had been selected by the gods to start the new dynasty. And then, afterwards, how to rid China of Shan Yu.

The hardest part of the plan was the third part – how to help China once it was leaderless.

“Does the emperor have any living relatives?” Mushu mused, tapping a claw on his snout.

“Three daughters. His parents have passed, and his wife in childhood with the youngest daughter,” Mulan answered. “Maybe the empresses’ family?”

Cri-Kee shook his head. Apparently, he’d spent time in a scribe’s home, learning to read and overhearing political talk. He chirped and buzzed, before stilling to look at Mushu.

“Cri-Kee says, and this sounds familiar so it’s gotta be right, it’s a blood thing. Her family doesn’t have the right to rule. It’s passed through blood. Father to son.”

“The emperor never had a son,” Mulan pointed out.

“Father to daughter, then.”

The cart jerked to a rough stop, Mulan smacking against the wooden planks and dislodging her friends from their places on either shin.

“What we stop for?” Mushu asked, rubbing his snot.

“Shhh.” Mulan pressed her ear against the wood between her and the cart’s driver, hoping to listen. Cri-Kee climbed on her head and pointed an antenna. Mushu scrambled to press his own ear against the wood.

Mulan could make out very little, but the voices seemed friendly and there was an overall buzz making it harder to pick out the words than usual. No, not a buzz. Words. Muted conversations. Had they reached the Imperial City?

A few moments later, a loud creak sounded. The conversations got louder, the driver called out “We’ll dry the cup later!”, and the cart started moving.  The gates to the city had opened and the small group of Huns crossed through. Mulan turned away from the wood to peer through the stacks of supplies around her.

She couldn’t see much, but for a capital city, there seemed very little people on the roads. No market stalls or street food. No children playing. Lots of Huns though, dressed in furs against the cold northern winters. Even though China had slipped into late summer, they wore the heavier garments.

Mulan watched what she could from the cart. Slowly, the Huns surrounding it peeled off to go about their own business. A few stayed with the cart, Mentu included. Mulan guessed he’d stay with her until she was handed over to Shan Yu.

The cart rocked, going down several streets that Mulan’s sliver of a view showed to become more Hun populated before stopping. She listened to a flurry of activity, before the back of the cart opened. Two Huns, the driver and one she recognized, started to unload the cart. As more men came to help, Mulan guessed they had arrived at a supply center.

Is that what Shan Yu had commanded his troops to do? Raid the edges of China to supply the Imperial City? It was his fault to begin with that the fields near the capital were destroyed.

Mulan pressed herself into the corner, hoping to escape the attention of the new men, but as the boxes and bags hiding her from view slowly disappeared it became obvious a woman had been living in the back of the cart for days. The men from the supply center stared and Mulan stared right back with her chin held high.

“Hey there,” one of the men called out to her.

With a hiss, Mushu slithered forward. Rearing up on his hind legs, he sent a flicker of flame into the man’s face. With a yelp, the Hun fell back, patting down his beard.

“Don’t touch her,” Mentu said, coming into view. “She’s gods’ blessed.”

“That’s a dragon!” the man said.

“Like I said, gods’ blessed. Touch her, and it’s not just the dragon you’ll be answering too.”

The men worked quickly after that, glancing at Mulan out of the corner of their eyes while Mushu stood guard a foot in front of her. Even tiny as he was, with his arms crossed, constantly flickering tongue, and smoke coming from his nostrils, Mushu cut a striking figure.

As the cart emptied, Mulan took the time to stretch. The cart's width had been just wide enough for Mulan to sit with her back pressed against one side and her feet flat against the other. Now, with the length mostly clear, she stretched out her legs and flexed her feet. Wiggled her toes.  She wanted to go outside and stretch, stand, as it had been awhile since her last bathroom break.

But more importantly, she wanted the chance to look for a weapon. All she had on her was her training pants and a discarded Hun shirt she’d taken from the cart once she could bear lifting her shoulders to put one on. Getting closer to Shan Yu wasn’t going to be a problem, but if Mulan was going to get rid of him for the good of China, she would need more than her fist and Mushu’s fangs.

Even a piece of a broken cobblestone would do, she could improvise a club, but first she needed out of this cart.

Mulan glanced from Mushu to the men and finally to Mentu who watched the cart get unloaded. What would happen once it was fully empty? Would he take her straight to Shan Yu?

 _He wouldn’t, not like this._ Mulan looked down at her dirty clothes and hands. _Would he?_

When the last crate had been pulled out of the cart, Mulan called out.

“Mentu!” She tried to imitate captain Shang’s voice when he used to call Mulan out during training. It must have worked because the Hun came to stand at the back of the cart, arms crossed and frowning.

“What.”

“Take me to a bath house. I’m hardly presentable as a gift to Shan Yu.”

He swept his eyes up and down her body. Mulan could imagine what she looked like – limp hair, dirty clothes, pale. And every time she had been let out to relieve herself, she’d wobbled as her feet and legs got used to walking again.

She did not look like a woman favored by the gods. And following that train of thought, she didn’t look like an Empress either.

Mentu walked out of her line of sight, not answering her question, and a moment later the cart jerked forward. The back was empty now, Mulan could roll out and run down an alleyway, hide in a corner. Even as the thought crossed her mind, the panel of wood up front that she’d been using to leave and go opened to reveal Mentu in the passenger’s seat.

They locked eyes through the hole as the driver clucked to the pony leading the cart.

Mentu didn’t have to say a word. As soon as Mulan left his line of sight, he’d leap from the bench and go after her.

Mulan turned her head to watch the now unobstructed view off the back of the cart. She didn’t know anything about the Imperial City, but the curved roofs and bright red tiles had her assuming they were close to the palace. The buildings they went by looked expensive, their moon gates lined in gold. The homes of advisors and honored generals, perhaps.

Mulan wondered how many of the original occupants still lived there, or if Shan Yu had put them all to the sword and gave them to his own men.

They went through another set of gates, turned a corner, and Mulan saw it.

The Imperial Palace. Large and imposing, her family’s entire farm could fit inside five times.  Royal. Red with gold accents. But the closer she looked, the more evidence she saw of battle. Arrows still stuck out of the walls, columns had fallen and shattered. Burn marks marred the wall in many places and looking up she saw parts of the roof had caved in from fire.

They turned another corner, the back of the cart now directly facing the wall circling the palace. Or, what had been a wall. Shattered chunks of rock strewn about in the aftermath of an explosion caught her eye. In the space beyond, she saw the husks of homes.

The cart jerked to a stop. Mentu got off the bench and came around to the back.

Here? Mulan was getting off here? Did Mentu really think to present Mulan to Shan Yu tonight?

“Come on, get out.”

Mushu went first, hissing. Mulan rose to a half crouch and stumbled her way to the end of the cart, legs tingling as they awoke. At the edge of the cart, Mulan scooted out and onto the ground. She stomped her feet a few times, then looked at Mentu while Mushu curled prominently around her neck.

Mentu jerked his head for Mulan to follow. She took a moment to pick up Cri-Kee and trailed after the Hun with an unsteady walk. He led her to a back door, where a woman stood nervously.

“Clean her up,” Mentu commanded the woman, grabbing Mulan’s arm to pull her forward. “Clean her up, and dress her like the princesses.”

“The-the princesses?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

Pulling her arm free with a glare, Mulan stepped towards the woman. “I would love a hot bath. If that’s possible to get.”

“I can always warm the water up,” Mushu offered.

The woman jumped, eyes wide as she stared at the dragon curled around Mulan’s throat.

“Like. A. Princess,” Mentu repeated.

“Of course,” the woman said. She gave a low bow to Mulan before ushering her inside.

They were in the kitchens. Women and men bustled about, cleaning up after what must have been lunch for Shan Yu and his court. A few workers ate while sitting on top of flour sacks. Mulan couldn’t help but watch them eat steamed buns. She had had nothing but raw grain and tough salted hide for days.

“Would Madam like something to eat?”

It took Mulan a moment to realize the woman was talking to her. Madam. Really. She was a farmer’s daughter, who probably looked worse than that. A farmer’s daughter, who wore a dragon like a necklace.

Of course. The dragon was the symbol of _China’s_ Imperial family. Of _China’s_ emperor’s right to rule. Mentu knowing that was unusual, Mulan realized now. But those who lived and worked in the Imperial City? They all knew.

They would all fawn over her.

The thought made Mulan uncomfortable, enough to deny her hunger and an offering of what was no doubt be the largest bun. Except, surrounded by the smell of food, Mulan’s stomach gave a loud gurgle.

“I’d like something to eat too,” Mushu said. “And so would the bug,” he amended after Cri-Kee’s chirp.

Everyone who had not noticed Mushu when Mulan walked in certainly noticed him now.

“Dragon,” someone whispered.

Immediately, Mulan was shuffled to a chair at a table, given a plate, silverware, and more food than she had ever seen grace her parents table.

“I couldn’t possibly eat all of this,” Mulan said.

“Then you don’t mind sharing.” Mushu rubbed his claws together and started on the plate of stem buns while Cri-Kee helped himself to rice, eating one grain at a time.

Mulan still stared at the food, uncomfortable with the display before her and keenly aware her village and those nearby were currently struggling.

“Mulan,” Mushu whispered, walking over to hand her a steam bun, “don’t be rude.”

“But- “

“Eat.” Mushu placed the bun in her hand.

Mulan was very aware of every eye in the kitchen watching her eat. Waiting, tense. For what reason, she couldn’t tell.

“More buns?” a woman asked as Mushu popped the last one in his mouth.

“Pork, if you have it.”

“Of course, Dragon. And you, Madam?”

“Ah, no. I don’t need any more pork buns,” Mulan assured her. “Thank you. This is enough.”

Mulan ate beyond the capacity of her stomach, not wanting to appear as if she didn’t appreciate their hospitality. No doubt, serving Shan Yu’s court was difficult and Mulan wanted to make things easier for the people of China, not harder. Eventually, she gently laid her chopsticks down.

As if it was a cue, the woman who had brought her into the kitchen appeared at her left elbow. “If Madam would follow me, your bath is ready.”

Demurely, Mulan followed, Mushu and Cri-Kee on either shoulder.

Her bath was a clay tub resting over a fire, filled with steaming water. Mulan entered the room, just as another woman added more wood to the flames beneath the tub. She bowed when Mulan stepped into the room. “Madam.”

“Please,” Mulan said, “can I know your names?”

The two women looked at each other, uncertain. Eventually, the woman who’d been feeding the fire dipped into a low bow. “I’m Xialin, Madam.”  Short, but with long, unbound hair, Xialin’s round face stared at the floor.

“I am Chunhua,” said the woman who’d followed Mulan since she arrived. “Please, get in the water.”

Mulan tried to engage the two women in further conversation, asking about everything from how the city had been sacked to how Shan Yu treated the staff to any hints about what the Hun’s plan for China was.  Xialin and Chunhua simply continued with their tasks of washing Mulan, answering along the lines of _I don’t know_ or _I don’t want to talk about this._

That answered Mulan’s question about palace life: the Huns ruled by fear and everyone in the palace tiptoed around them, terrified of attracting attention. What happened to those who stepped out of line, she didn’t know.

While Xialin combed out Mulan’s hair, she was happy to see it had grown out a little bit, Chunhua very delicately cleaned Mushu with a soapy rag. She seemed both honored to touch a dragon and horrified at taking such liberties. She had wrapped her hand in a separate rag than the cleaning one, barely applying pressure to Mushu’s back while he laid on a stool.

“Ooo, this is nice,” the dragon said.

“I’m glad it pleases you, Great Dragon.”

“It pleases me very much.”

Mulan rolled her eyes.

Xialin caught the action, her expression horrified. “Don’t dishonor him,” she whispered into Mulan’s ears, “He’ll take away your blessing.”

“Mushu’s my friend. He won’t leave me for anything.”

Xialin pressed her lips together in a frown. “The Gods are fickle and this is a year for change.”

“I’m a good change,” Mulan insisted. “I will protect the people of China.”

“That’s what all Emperors say until they fail.”

“The Gods choose me, not a dissatisfied noble, not an external force, but a farmer’s daughter whose only goal is to protect her family. To make them proud. I’ll protect the people of China, because they are me.”

Xialin stared at her, and in the quiet Mulan realized so were Chunhua, Mushu, and Cri-Kee.

“Of course you will, baby girl,” Mushu said. “That’s why you have the best guardian in all of China at your side. You protect China, I’ll protect you.”

Mulan smiled at her friend.

Cri-Kee chirped, hopping from one of Mulan’s knees to the other.

“The bug says he’ll bring us both luck.”

* * *

Washed, combed, and garbed in a rough robe, Mulan was lead through the palace to a suite of rooms. 

Mentu’s words, _like a princess_ , echoed in her head and Mulan wondered if this suite belonged to one of the Emperor’s three daughters. Looking around, Mulan saw a delicate beaded plum on a vanity. Princess Mei’s suite, then.

“This way,” Chunhua said, pushing Mulan towards a large closet. Inside were swaths of fabric, most of it pink. There had to be at least forty outfits. Compared to Mulan’s four, it was a treasure trove.

Xialin and Chunhua talked amongst themselves, debating about what to dress Mulan in. Mulan hadn’t thought of them as personal servants to Mei, but how well they knew her outfits hinted as such. That, or they’d worked in the palace long enough to learn the princess’s wardrobe well.

While the two women talked, Mushu scampered down from around Mulan’s neck to the palm of her right hand. Mulan cupped both palms and brought them to eye level so she could talk to her friend eye to eye.

“What you said while you were getting your hair done, about being blessed and saving China. Mulan, you know your ancestors sent me, not the gods.”

“I know,” Mulan flicked a glance towards the two women, “but if they believe it, why should I not play along? And blessed or guarded, I still planning on doing what I can to help China.”

“You’re an amazing woman, you know that?”

Cri-Kee chirped.

“And beautiful. The bug asked me to add that part,” Mushu said with a shrug.

Mulan smiled at her friends. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“Madam,” Xialin said, bowing before Mulan and raising a bundle of expensive fabric over her head, “Is this acceptable?”

Like most of the closest, it was pink, but the accents were the palest green and the swallowtails were white to match the belt. Looking closely, Mulan noticed the green on the upper garment, the over skirt, and the green edging on the shao contained long dragons running the length of each individual hem.

It was too beautiful to touch, nonetheless wear. No doubt, her father would have to sell the farm and house six times over to afford this dress. Mulan didn’t want to risk touching it.

“It’s beautiful,” Mushu said, and that was all the approval Xialin needed. No doubt, all of Mushu’s preferences would supersede her own. 

When Xialin and Chunhua finished dressing her, Mulan felt very much not herself. The sleeves were too billowy, they swallowed her arm and hands, would get in the way of work. The skirt touched the floor, dragged along it with the swallowtails steaming behind. She’d have to take baby steps to avoid stepping on the fabric, forget jumping on a horse. And her head felt so heavy, her hair pulled tight and expanded on the top of her head in an urn shape, filled with gold ornaments.

Xialin and Chunhua waited, out of reach, for Mulan’s opinion.

Mulan couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say this was either version of her. Or even the image of the woman who would save China because all this fabric would get in the way.

Cri-Kee chirped from his spot on a dresser.

“You’re right, Bug, Mulan looks just like a painting.”

And like before, that was good enough for the two serving women.

They bowed, first to Mushu, then to Mulan.

“We’ll check on dinner, Madam,” Chunhua said. Both women left.

* * *

An hour later, Xialin gestured for Mulan to enter a dining room. Mulan took a deep breath, gripped one of the small, improvised weapons she had found in Mei’s room, and stepped forward to stare Shan Yu in the face. 

Only, Shan Yu wasn’t there.

Waiting in the room, like penned chicken facing a fox, sat a woman in purple. A few years older than Mulan, richly dressed, scared. Ting-Ting, the former Emperor’s eldest daughter, and now Empress of China due to a hasty marriage to Shan Yu.

Mulan released her grip on the hair pin in her sleeve and walked into the room. Halfway to Ting-Ting, Mulan fell into a clumsy bow. “Empress.”

“Madam…”

Mulan realized she had never informed Xialin or Chunhua of her name to pass on. “Fa Mulan. And please, Empress, I am no madam.”

Ting-Ting scrutinized her, no doubt looking for Mushu, but the dragon remained hidden against Mulan’s back and under her collar. “You’re the new dynasty.”

Mulan squirmed under the swathes of fabric. Sure, she wanted to help China and capitalized on Mushu’s presence and lore to ensure it, but to suggest she would change China so dramatically?

Shan Yu had changed China for the worse. Mulan would simply make things right again, and the former Emperor’s court, Ting-Ting’s court, would see to the needs of the people of China. Mulan wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“I’m simply here to help families like my own,” Mulan answered.

Ting-Ting came over to right Mulan. “You needn’t bow so low. Our ranks are similar now. Come, sit. Tell me about your travels here while we wait for Shan Yu to join us.”

A young serving girl appeared carrying a tray filled with the necessities for tea. As Mulan and Ting-Ting sipped, Mulan shared an altered version of her tales.  She was a farmer’s daughter, but being the only child her father, the Honorable Fa Zhou, had taught her basic swordplay. Just enough to help defend the farm, and when the Huns came to raid it she stood her own. A fighting woman had caught their eye, so they took her. And when her father had pleaded to the ancestors for aid in her safety, the result had been a small, travel-sized, red dragon.

Mulan tried to impart knowledge of China to Ting-Ting: the burned, raided villages, the early signs of famine, the destruction of the Imperial City and no doubt other grand cites too. She wanted to not just share this knowledge with Ting-Ting, but use it to work with the Empress to create a plan to protect China’s citizens. What had Ting-Ting done, openly or secretly, to help? What might they do, as first wife and second wife to a dead Emperor Shan Yu, to care for those in the fields?

But Ting-Ting didn’t care about the state of China. The sorrow Mulan had seen at home, in Fudan, or elsewhere. Her concerns were much more local, which Hun to avoid in the hallway, which servant reported to Shan Yu. Useful information, but what did it matter to Mulan, who already planned to take back China? She wanted to push forward a better world, not learn to live in this one.

The doors opened, revealing Shan Yu and two Huns following behind him. He hadn’t raided the Emperor’s wardrobe; he wore the hides all Hun warriors did. However, sitting on his head was the Emperor’s crown and gold hairpins stuck through the fabric over his left breast like medals. The men trailing him had done the same – men and woman’s jewelry on their arms, face, furs.

Ting-Ting scrambled to her feet to give a low bow to the three men. Mulan tried to do the same, but her feet got caught between the large skirt and swallowtails. Instead of rising and bowing, she ended up on all fours on the floor.

She expected a laugh or a command to get up and bow properly, but when neither came she lifted her head just in time to see Shan Yu stop before her.

“So you’re the dragon-girl. You fight with a sword and travel with a talking dragon. You’re China’s new age, the gods’ favorite to rule.”

“You’re Shan Yu. You terrorize the villages and think of none beyond a small group.”

Mulan regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. Shan Yu snarled and kicked out at Mulan, his dirty boot impacting the top of her shoulder near her neck. The force of it sent her sitting backward on her heels and enraged Mushu.

Quick as lightening, the dragon slithered out of his hiding place to bite Shan Yu in the calf. He then quickly scrambled upwards, avoiding the Hun’s hands, to leave a vicious mark on Shan Yu’s neck.

The Hun screamed, reaching for Mushu, but he slithered away and back to Mulan. Ting-Ting had helped her to her feet, and Mushu took up position on the floor between Mulan and Shan Yu.

“You hurt my girl, you gotta go through me.”

Cri-Kee jumped into place next to Mushu, chest puffed out, and seemed to say _me too._

To Mulan’s surprise, Ting-Ting stepped between her husband and Mulan and bowed. “It is my responsibility as your first wife to ensure your second is taught the ways of this house. Please, allow me time to do this.”

Shan Yu flicked his gaze between Ting-Ting in a low bow, Mushu and Cri-Kee ready for a fight, and Mulan giving him a challenging look.

“I conquered China because the Great Wall your emperors built challenged me to do it. I like challenges. I win them. And you,” he eyes went to Mushu before returning to Mulan’s, “are simply the next one. The way to _win_ China.” Shan Yu turned to Ting-Ting. “Teach her nothing. You’ll ruin the game.”

Shan Yu and his men sat across from Ting-Ting and Mulan. The men ignored them, talking amongst themselves in Mongolian. The women ate in silence. Mushu didn’t eat at all, standing guard before Mulan’s plate and glaring at Shan Yu.  Over the course of them meal, they’d gotten into a total of ten short staring contests. The score was even when dinner finished.

Xialin led the way back to Mei’s suite after dinner, closing the door behind her. Mulan tried not to flinch when, a few minutes later, the sound of something heavy being dragged before the door sounded.

“They locked you in.” Mushu gave the door an incredulous look.

“You can’t tell me you hadn’t thought of doing the same,” Mulan answered.

“’course I was. But it’s different, preventing them from getting in and preventing you from getting out.”

“Yeah.” Mulan stared at the door, worried. It hadn’t struck her before, too busy planning how to take out Shan Yu, but she could be considered a prisoner of war. A trophy, subjected to the whims of the victors around her. Whims, Mulan realized, Ting-Ting had tried to warn her about that Mulan brushed aside.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep properly tonight.”

“None of us will, but doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sleep, Mulan.” Mushu scrambled onto the bed. “We’ll take shifts, but you, bug, are on luck duty all night.”

Cri-Kee answered with a loud chirp and a salute.

“Thanks, you two. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Xialin leading the way to the dining room for breakfast, something outside caught Mulan’s eye. She stopped, to figure out what it was.

Something fluttered across the court yard and on the wall. Long streaming royal purple swallowtails. Lavender skirts.

Tied to a pole, no doubt dead, was Ting-Ting. Beside her, identified only by the dress Mulan recognized, slumped Chunhua.

And now that Mulan looked, because she hadn’t seen the top of the palace walls coming in, hadn’t thought to look before now, she saw other, older bodies.

The entire former royal family. The Emperor. Ting-Ting. Mei. Su.

“They’re all dead,” Xialin whispered from behind Mulan.

Mulan turned to look at her, but Xialin stared at Mei’s body. She might have been dressed in pink once, but from here Mulan could see no flutter of cloth. It had been ripped away by the elements or stolen.

“They’re all dead,” Xialin repeated. “The gods turned their favor from the emperor’s family and allowed the Huns over the wall. We don’t know why, and who are we to judge them.”

Mushu shifted around Mulan’s neck.

“Shan Yu is our Emperor now.  China currently has no ruler the gods approve of.”

Mulan stayed quite. Thinking.

She had no knowledge of this. No understanding of the gods, her humble family prayed to their ancestors instead. What farming family would capture the gods’ attention?

If Xialin expected a response, she didn’t get one. Silently, she led the way to the dining hall.

Shan Yu already sat eating breakfast, again flanked by two men. Mulan had never hated someone so much. Who was he, to barge into China like this? To ruin the lives of people on a whim, for fun, just to prove he could? Her hand tightened on the sharp hair spike in her sleeve, ready to use it, but she knew that she’d never get a chance. Not with Shan Yu looking at her with those golden eyes, or the man next to him using a throwing knife to eat.

One move and Mulan would be dead.

Instead, she pretended to be eating with the Ho family and ate with impeccable manners. Concentrating on that kept her anger in check and gave her a reason to not match Shan Yu glare for glare. If she did, she didn’t know what he would do.

Only after the last grain of rice had been eaten did Shan Yu speak to her.

“I asked around. You are Fa Mulan, general of Fa Zhou, one of China’s most fearsome generals, before injury forced him to retire.”

“Yes.”

“China keeps wonderful records. When the former emperor started the conscription, Fa Zhou’s son, Ping, went in his place, only to be dismissed from the war camp for being untrainable.”

Mulan swallowed, throat dry.

 “There are no records of a Fa Ping being born. You went to the camp. Did your father know? Did your captain, a Li Shang, find out and that’s why he sent you home?”

Shan Yu leaned over the table. Mulan felt his hot breath on her face.

“I would have left you there, see how much you could learn. Even your partial training allowed you to stand up to a group of my men. Did you like the challenge? The thrill of facing an impossible odd, and meeting it?”

“I did it for China. Because my father would not have survived the first battle, and my country needed swords,” Mulan said.

Shan Yu threw his head back and laughed, elbowing the man on his right. Thin and reedy, with bracers on his arm, the other man was no doubt a capable archer.

“A woman with fire. A challenge,” Shan Yu turned his attention from his friend to Mulan, “and you already know I like those.”

Shan Yu stood up, walked around the table, and forced Mulan to her feet. He reached out to touch Mushu, but the dragon bit his finger.

“Touchy,” Shan Yu said.

“Let go of my girl,” Mushu growled.

In answer, Shan Yu grabbed both of Mulan’s hands in his. “It would not due for a gods blessed girl to be my second wife. Now, you shall be my first, my Empress, and bring the gods’ favor to me.”

“The gods will never favor you,” Mushu spat out.

“No,” Shan Yu conceded, “They’ll favor her. And you’ve already seen the benefits, haven’t you, Fa Mulan? So many times and reasons you should have died. And yet here you are, scheduled to be my bride. Empress of China.”

Mulan yanked her hands away.

“Don’t expect our marriage to be easy.”

“I expect it to be stimulating.” Shan Yu turned around and left, his friends at his back.

Mulan collapsed back into her seat.

“I don’t like this, Mushu. He scares me.”

“He scares me too, Mulan.”

* * *

 

Shang had grown up in the Imperial City. To see it now, half as lively as it had been a year ago, broke his heart. 

It hadn’t fallen easy, he guessed, taking in the lack of doors at the main gate. Parts of it were left, splinters in the road. The gates had held as long as possible, the men on them strong and sure.

Too strong, maybe, Shang considered when he saw the hole in the wall around the palace. The Huns had blasted through the stone, no doubt with the city’s own supply of gun powder.

Arriving in the city, he’d sent his men out to gather information. Shang wanted to know everything from how the city had fallen to where the prisoners were kept to the daily challenges of those living in the city.

The stories hadn’t been pretty. Shan Yu’s forces had been mostly unopposed, having destroyed the Imperial Army beyond the pass, and overwhelmed the city during the course of the night. The Hun leader, the whispers said, had the power to see through the eyes of a bird, allowing him to understand and control the fight with ease, to locate unguarded routes and scope ahead even as he separated a soldier’s head from his body.

Two days. That’s all it had taken. And with Huns now being the majority of able bodied men in town, they ruled with fear over the remaining citizens. The women and children who had hidden during the fighting. The older men, feeling the strain of age and who had miraculously survived the battle.

There had still been hope last time Shang had been here. But he had fought to win back the city and lost, losing half his men in the process. Now, despair had sunk in. Little trade came to the city and most supplies had been gathered by raiding Huns. The fields in the area were burnt, and while they would be usable next year, any crops to help this winter were gone.

Their second morning there, Ling came up to Shang with news.

“There’s rumors, about a new dynasty being founded.”

“The old family is dead, of course there will be one,” Shang answered.

Ling shook his head. “Not a Mongolian dynasty, a Chinese one.”

Shang turned to give his man his full attention. “Explain.”

“There…a girl. Woman. Stolen from a farming village to the west. She was brought here because before she could be a spoil of war, a dragon appeared in the Hun’s camp and gave her his protection. She’s here, in the Imperial City, and wears the dragon like jewelry.”

“And?” Shang pressed.

Ling turned towards the gruesome sight on the wall Shang did his best to avoid looking at. “She’s the reason Shan Yu killed Empresses Ting-Ting. Only a first wife holds the title Empresses, and while this woman is technically Shan Yu’s second wife- “

“She’ll be his only, and he’ll force the laws and people to accept her.” Shang continued.

A dragon. A real dragon, a sign of the gods' favor. Proof to the people that whom the gods choose would rule justly, fairly, and encourage the gods to cast smiles on the country of China. A new, fresh start  – not at the hands of the Huns, but from the calloused hands of a farmer’s daughter.

“What do the people think?” Shang asked, but he already guessed what they felt because the same emotions sparked in his chest. The friction of the invasion, the pounding of China behind the stony glares of the Huns, the sudden rush of fresh air – fresh hope – with the realization that of course a hard working farmer would know how to replant and encourage China to flourish.

Ling shrugged. “It’s too early to say, I think they want to hope but can’t bring themselves to. Or are reserving judgement. There’s a procession, later today.”

“We’ll all be there, scattered along the route.”

* * *

Xialin had turned Mulan into a doll.

She sat perched on an imperial mare, whiter than snow, and dressed in the palest yellow. The dress, she knew, had been commissioned especially for her. Not only had she felt the pins and pokes of a seamstress in her room scant days ago, but the embroidered dragons on the hems were tiny copies of Mushu. There was a larger embodiment of him on Mulan’s back, a bold fashion statement, and her swallow tails draped over her horse’s rump looked like fire.

Mushu had admired the effect, but the dress hadn’t made him happy.

Today, this procession, had one purpose. To announce Mulan as Shan Yu’s new bride, and showcase her connection to the gods at the same time.

There were dragons everywhere on her person – the fabric, the hair ornaments, her jewelry. Even the saddle cloth had been specially made.

Mushu hadn’t escaped Xialin’s decorations either. He wore a thin golden collar, which included a tiny bell. Every time he moved, the collar rang and flashed sunlight, catching the eye of the cowed men and woman lining the street.  Mushu moved constantly, shifting from Mulan’s shoulder, her neck, her wrists, the top of her piled hair.

Shan Yu had made it very clear that morning. Mushu had to present himself to the public, had to publically show his support, the gods’ support of Mulan, unless he wanted the Hun to test the gods. He’d implied many threats, to Mulan, to the village.

“I feel like a peacock,” Mushu complained, moving to Mulan’s shoulder.

“I don’t feel any better.” Mulan answered.

Sighing, she scanned the street. Mulan always imagined processions would draw thick crowds, this thin showing confused her. She didn’t know if the turnout was the result of citizens being too scared to show up, or if the city had been thinned so drastically during Shan Yu’s invasion.

Regardless, they all gaped at Mushu and Mulan by association.  

Mulan couldn’t identify the looks in their faces. Wonder, certainly, at seeing a dragon. They might be symbols of the imperial family, but no one in living memory had seen one. She hoped Shan Yu’s plans failed, that they didn’t view Mushu on her shoulder and her betrothal to Shan Yu as the gods’ acceptance of Hun rule.

Sadly, if she judged the glances between her and Shan Yu, many did make that association. Whether they liked it or not, she couldn’t tell, but the stares felt heavy on her body.

She wanted to tell them that soon Shan Yu would be dead. Soon, China would belong to China. But she couldn’t. Not sitting tall on a horse, swathed in fabric, with Hun soldiers surrounding her as they made their way through the city.

 _Chirp! Chirp_!

Cri-Kee’s noise and sudden jumping on Mulan’s horse’s head pulled Mulan from her thoughts. The horse snorted and shook its head, Cri-Kee desperately hanging on. Once settled, the cricket chirped to get her attention again and jabbed at someone in the crowd.

“What did you say you saw?” Mushu asked, but Mulan already turned her head to look at the people while they passed.

One man stood out, towering over the others in blue robes. Bald, calm. The encroaching famine and lack of supplies had shrunk Chien-Po’s belly, but Mulan still recognized her former comrade.

“Captain Li is here,” Mulan whispered, quiet enough to not draw her guard’s attention.

“Pretty Boy?”

Mulan didn’t answer, peering more intently at the crowd. She almost missed him, not dressed in armor and two rows of people back. His frown, however, caught her attention with its familiarity.

She locked eyes with him, trying to ask what he was doing here in the city. Looking for assurance her family was okay.

Mulan looked too long. Shan Yu, riding slightly before her, caught the motion of her twisting shoulders as she passed Shang. Instantly, he signaled to his men. They swarmed into the crowd, forcing everyone in the section Mulan had been staring to their feet.

She stopped her mount.

“Let them go,” she commanded Shan Yu.

Shan Yu turned his stallion so that he faced her. “Not until you tell me who caught your eye and why.”

“Figure it out yourself,” Mushu snorted.

“Very well.” Shan Yu turned to his men. “Take them all to the dungeon. I’ll question them later.”

“No!”

Mulan knew none of them would survive what the Huns would put them through. She wanted to help the people of China, not turn them into targets.  Everyone on their knees were innocent. Shang had slipped away into the crowd.

“No?” Shan Yu asked.

“I-“ Mulan quickly took in the kneeling men, woman, and children. Her eyes fell on a young woman, trembling as she shied away from the man pressing down on her shoulder. “I-, that woman.” Mulan pointed to her. “I need a replacement for Chunhua.”

“Who?”

“The maid you strung up with Empresses Ting-Ting.”

Shan Yu stared at her. Mulan stared back.

“Consider it my wedding gift,” Mulan said. He couldn’t say no to that in public.

“Fine,” Shan Yu answered. He turned to the Huns, waving a hand to the man holding the woman Mulan had pointed out. The Hun pulled the woman to her feet, then shoved her towards Mulan. She hit the mare’s flank and the horse snorted in surprised.

“My bride has selected you to serve her,” Shan Yu said. “You start now.”

In answer, the woman bowed low. When the procession started up again, she walked next to Mulan’s horse, watching her feet.

Mulan didn’t have to look back over her shoulder to know that the Huns hadn’t left the rest of the peasants go. They would still end up in the dungeon at Shan Yu’s mercies.

 _At least I saved one,_ Mulan told herself.

But considering what happened to Chunhua, Mulan wasn’t sure she had.

* * *

 

Seven men. That’s all Shang had left.

And when he joined them after viewing the procession, all seven stopped talking. They shuffled their feet. Looked at the ground.

“Wussies.” Yao spat out of the corner of his mouth. Yet, when he stepped forward he wouldn’t look Shang in the eye. “We were thinkin’.”

“Go on,” Shang commanded.

“Ping…he used to be one of us. But never finished training, never got to know any of us. Why all this effort for a man we consider an acquaintance at best?”

Shang glowered, but he supposed from the perspective of the men Yao spoke the truth. Ping was a stranger, and had never shared a battle with them. 

He looked at Ling, who had worked with Ping in Fudan, but the lanky man avoided his gaze.

“Should we not help a fellow solider? A neighbor?”

“We,” Yao heaved a heavy sigh. “We are all that’s left of the Imperial Army. We serve China. And looking for a single solider who the Huns probably killed that day is a waste of time. There are other things we can do.”

“Like what?”

Yao chewed his cheeks and mumbled something.

“Didn’t catch that,” Shang said.

“What Yao is trying to say,” Chien-Po stepped forward, “is that the woman in the procession, Fa Mulan, is Ping’s sister. What better way to honor one of our own but pledge allegiance to the woman who will save China?”

“The woman who will save China. Is that what the people call her?”

“She has a dragon,” Chien-Po stated. “She knows the land, comes from a family with honor. She’s a worthy rally point.”

Shang opened his mouth. Shut it.

He’d thought the same thing.

Of course, Shang had recognized Mulan/Ping right away, not that he needed to. A caller had announced her as Madam Fa Mulan, so her identity had never been a secret. But with her hair pulled back and up, face set in a determined mask, Shang had immediately remembered Ping riding on his horse towards the burning fields.

Helping Ping and helping Mulan were the same at the moment, but he’d never revealed that to his men.

The question was – should he?

No, he immediately thought. Public knowledge of Mulan’s deceit would identify her as a criminal. A direct opposition to slowly growing hope being placed on her shoulders. Inadvertently, his men had provided him with the perfect excuse to help her.

Shang could keep his promise to the Fa family to bring their daughter home. He could get the chance to better China, even indirectly. And he could protect one of his men.

“Okay. Let’s light a stick of incense for Fa Ping tonight, and pledge our service to his sister tomorrow.”

* * *

After the tenseness of the procession that morning, Mulan couldn’t bear to eat dinner with Shan Yu and his two right-hand men. Instead, she told Xialin to bring her dinner to her suite and show the new maid – Huan – her new tasks. Huan looked a mix of terrified and relieved to be in the palace, alive but believing any small error could change that. 

It broke Mulan’s heart. China’s people shouldn’t be afraid of its rulers.

Yet, that’s all Mulan saw as she peered at the city, leaning against the balcony. People with their heads down, moving quickly, not talking to those they pass like in the village at home. The Imperial City looked lonely.  If it wasn’t being supplied by harvests stolen from the edges of the country, Mulan felt certain city residents would take up a farming lifestyle.

There was honor is working the earth. In providing for the country.

Mushu scampered up one of the balcony supports, pork buns cradled in his arm. “Want one?” he asked, offering his elbow.

“No thanks,” Mulan answered.

“You gotta eat.”

“I will, when I’m done thinking.”

“About Pretty Boy?”

Mulan shook her head, smiling at Mushu’s nickname for Captain Li Shang. She had enjoyed looking at him at the camp.

“Why is he in the Imperial City? I thought he and his men were protecting the western villages.” _Protecting home,_ she said in her heart. 

Mulan hadn’t realized till today, seeing her old unit mates in the crowd, how much she relied on the image of them still in the west, protecting villages. Seeing them here made her worries skyrocket, concerned for the farm and her family. Had her father survived the attack? Had all the wheat been destroyed?

“They probably heard of my handsome self and came to check me out.” Mushu flexed an arm, but half a bun making his cheeks puffed out ruined the effect.

Mulan laughed. “Probably,” she joked.

“Or you,” Mushu said, crawling closer. “The people couldn’t take their eyes off you today.”

Cri-kee, halfway asleep in Mulan’s collar, chirped in agreement.

“I don’t know how to help all of them.”

“We got the first step figured out. Take out Shan Yu. We’ll figure the rest later, okay? One step at a time.”

Sighing, Mulan headed into her rooms. _Mei’s rooms_ , she reminded herself. _Don’t forget those who came before._ With a vicious yank, she pulled out a pin in her hair. Xialin and Huan had removed the gold ornaments, but kept the updo.

“I’m in over my head, Mushu.”

“How is this any different than you walking into Wu Zhong Camp with no idea how to be a man?” Mushu perched on the small table covered in cosmetics. “You even got me to tell you how to be an empress.”

“Know a lot about how to be an empress, do you?” Mulan raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Dra-gon. I’ve been around. And hey, if the gods really do favor you, the advice I give you will work.”

Mulan couldn’t hide her snort of amusement.

“And what, great dragon, is your – “

The sound of something heavy landing cut Mulan off. Instantly, she looked towards her door. Like every night, she barricaded it, and nothing had moved.

“Ah, the humble farmer doesn’t realize her worth.”

Mulan twisted towards the balcony. Shan Yu brushed off his furs before striding forward. “I hope you don’t mind me climbing your balcony. You missed dinner.”

“Leave.”

“Now, is that something to say to your betrothed?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m engaged to another.”

“A boy from your farming village?” Shan Yu’s gaze pierced her, cataloging every little twitch Mulan made. “Surely your family would approve of you breaking that match for this one.”

“The farmer has more honor.”

There was a sting across her cheek. Not Shan Yu’s hand, he was still too far away, but the claw of a falcon that had swept into the room. Mushu roared at it, breathing fire, but it banked out of the way to land on Shan Yu’s shoulder.

Mushu heaved in air, ready to fry them both. Mulan placed her hand on the back of his body to stop him. She appreciated the sentiment, but the room was very flammable.

Shan Yu stared at her, head cocked. Mulan wondered what challenge he saw, what hurdle he wanted succumb. She couldn’t decide to give him one or not considering he took pleasure in them.

“What really caught your attention today?”

Mulan didn’t answer.

Shan Yu stepped forward, to do what Mulan didn’t know, but Mushu shot a small flame at him. One day, Mulan figured, Mushu wouldn’t be enough protection. No doubt, he was a challenge Shan Yu already started to plan around.

“Who caught your attention? It wasn’t the girl. And it wasn’t the other people in that crowd.”

“And you know that because you have them locked in the dungeon? I told you, I needed a new maid.” Mulan dropped into a sarcastic bow. “Thank you for the wedding gift. Huan will do nicely.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have everyone I question killed, their bodies on display tomorrow morning.”

“You do that, and you’ll alienate the people of China even more.”

“Ahh, that’s why I’m marrying you.”

He’d do it, Mulan knew. Murder all those people from the procession, if he hadn’t already. She scrambled for an excuse.

“One of the men, he reminded me of my father. I…miss him.”

“Of course. Women are very attached to family.” Shan Yu cocked his head to the other side. “Give it a day or two, and news of our upcoming wedding will no doubt reach your family. Unless you wish me to send a messenger tonight? Invite them to the Palace?”

Mulan blanched. She did not want her parents here, at Shan Yu’s hands.

“They died when your men raided my village. They cannot answer your invitation.” It hurt Mulan to say it, because she didn’t know how the raid had ended. Her entire family could be dead. She hoped not.

Her answer seemed to push Shan Yu off balance. “Oh. I’m sorry. I understand that, losing family.”

The Hun looked so lost in that moment, softer than Mulan had ever seen him, that neither she nor Mushu could overcome their shock to prevent him from stepping forward. He stopped three feet in front of Mulan.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Mulan turned her head away. “Leave.”

He did, jumping down from the balcony.

* * *

Mulan woke up to the news that her wedding had been pushed up. Instead in two weeks, it was four days.

She wasn’t pleased with the change, because she wanted more time to practice. Her small moments alone spent learning how to do drills and fight in a heavy gown without stepping on her swallowtails, shrunk thanks to a sudden flurry of fittings. Her efforts to increase her body strength had to be put aside for practice up-dos. Cri-Kee, bless his heart, had picked up some of the slack by sharping the ornaments for Mulan’s hair.

Her plan was loose, kill Shan Yu in their wedding bed, but beyond that she didn’t have a clue. Would she meet him fully clothed, weapons in her hair, or stripped to a nightgown and have to resort to smothering him with a pillow? Would it just be the two of them, or would Mushu be there? Cri-Kee? Shan Yu’s guards, the archer hiding in the rafters?

It made her nervous.

Training at the Wo Zhong Camp had been that – training. Practiced, simple movements, and while some of the men had not been gentle not of them had tried to land a kill strike. Her first real battle had been upon Khan at home against the Huns on their ponies, a fight she only halfway remembered in the rush of adrenaline and desire to protect her home.

Killing Shan Yu was for the betterment of China, she knew that, but it still sat wrong in her stomach.

Worse, she suspected the Hun expected her to try something. It would not be easy.

But maybe, it just got easier.

She’d been called to the audience hall and froze in the doorway staring at the men on their knees before a sitting Shan Yu.

Captain Li Shang.

Chen Ling.

Wu Chien-Po.

Qin Yao.

Other men, whom she didn’t recognize but were without a doubt those who had reported to Wo Zhong the same time as her.

A sense of relief filled Mulan, a combination of seeing familiar faces and knowing they could help.

It disappeared when she realized Shan Yu watched her take in the sight of the bowing men. Swallowing, she gave in to Xialin’s slight nudges and sat in a low stool at Shan Yu’s left side.

“Madam Fa,” Shan Yu said, still looking at her while he waved his hands towards the men on the floor, “meet the remains of the Imperial Army.”

 _The remains._ She remembered how large the training camp had been, full of life and men. Ling and Shang had said they suffered losses, hinted the army was drastically depleted, but to be the last? These seven men?

Never mind Shan Yu and the Hun’s destroying China. They’d never be able to defend themselves from healthy, neighboring armies in the spring.

Mulan couldn’t ask why Captain Shang had come. She sat there, arms politely in her lap, and stared at Shan Yu in a silent demand to _get on with it_.

“Too weak to defend all of China,” Shan Yu went on, “They’ve decided to dedicate themselves to protecting its leaders instead. In this case, you.”

Mulan held her breath.

“Tell me, Madam Fa, do you feel you need the extra protection?”

Mushu shifted around Mulan’s neck and she desperately wanted to look Shang in the eye and say “yes”. Instead, she kept her gaze on Shan Yu. “No, I feel perfectly safe here. But if you wish to employ them, I will not stop you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Mulan could see the soldiers shift and catch each other’s eyes.

 _I dare you,_ Mulan projected to Shan Yu, _what’s climbing a wall and conquering a country with surprise attacks compared to the challenge of keeping a country under your thumb while surrounded by people eager to slit your throat? This is the next level. Is it too hard for you to accept it? Scared you’ll fail?_

Shan Yu frowned, looked towards the men bowing, and then at the Huns lining the hall. He reached over, covering Mulan’s hands with his.

“I’m glad you feel safe in my walls, but one can never have enough security. We’ll induct your new guards tomorrow morning.”

Mulan didn’t know what to feel. Disappointed Shan Yu didn’t consider the Captain and his men a threat, or proud and worried in knowing he considered her the top challenge and would use Shang and the others as leverage.

“Come, it’s time for dinner.” Still holding her hand, Shan Yu led Mulan to the dining hall without dismissing the bowing men. Mulan never turned to look at them as they left.

* * *

“Ooo, looky me. I’m amazing. My fiancé is god-blessed. China’s last men have bowed to me, work for me. China supports Mulan, Mulan supports me, and I can control birds!” Mushu paced back and forth, mocking Shan Yu. “I’m gonna convince China I’m the best and then go conquer Japan.”

Xialin, doing Mulan’s hair, gaped at the dragon. Huan snorted in laughter, then immediately turned her attention to her task with a stoic face.

“It’s okay to laugh,” Mulan said, wincing as Xialin tugged.

“The Emperor could kill us, if he knew.”

“He knows I don’t like him.”

Xialin looked towards Mushu. “You have protection, that’s why it’s your alive.”

“And as Empresses, I’ll extend that to all of China.”

“Really?” Huan asked.

“’Course she will,” Mushu answered. “We’re a team, her and I.”

“We’ll see,” Xialin said, and Huan bowed her head.

Shan Yu was harsh and kept many in fear. Even with Mushu and Cri-Kee, Mulan knew the sense of terror in her belly. That Shan Yu would hurt one of the maids, or one of her new guards. Cri-Kee, who Mulan wasn’t sure Shan Yu knew off. A woman's fear or a man's fear, she couldn't tell. It mattered not either way.

Still, there was hope, Mulan thought as they headed to the induction ceremony. Shang and his men were here. Maybe they could form a plan.

Except, the seven men weren’t the only members of Mulan’s new guard.

“Let this be a prelude to the union of Mongolia and China,” Shan Yu said, addressing the everyone in the full palace courtyard, “and form a joint group to serve as a new Imperial Guard. Hun warriors and soldiers trained by the son of General Li. Captain Shang, I know your recruits have received the best training.”

Here, Shan Yu’s eyes drifted to Mulan. She sucked in a breath. He knew. Knew that Li Shang had trained Fa Ping. Knew Mulan knew Shang, in some capacity.

“And so, Captain Li Shang I promote you to your father’s rank of General and give you command of the Imperial Guard.”

The fourteen men kneeling on the platform below Mulan and Shan Yu, in full view of the public, bowed their heads.

“Thank you, Emperor Shan Yu.”

“To showcase our groups working together, I hope you’ll embrace teams made of Huns and Imperial soldiers.”

Shang paused before answering. “Of course.”

Weak cheers came from the crowd, and Mulan wished she knew what they were for exactly. Because nothing about this felt good to her.

* * *

The rest of the day, Mulan was trailed by a rotation of two men. A soldier and a Hun. At dinner, they stood behind her, and at night, they stood at Mulan’s doors before she locked it from inside. 

She had itched all day to talk to Shang or Ling or Chien-Po or even Yao, but didn’t dare with a sharp eyed Hun watching her every breath. Despite the arrival of help, Mulan felt as if life in the palace got a hundred times harder, a hundred times more dangerous.

A thump on her balcony didn’t help matters. Mulan turned to scold Shan Yu for entering her room, when she realized her visitor was not the Hun, but Captain Li Shang.

She fell into old habits and bowed. “Captain.”

“Fa…” Shang trailed off.

Mulan half rose from her bow, looking at Shang uncertainly.  “Captain Li?”

“I think you’re as confused as I am, acting like Ping while dressed as Mulan.”

Mulan froze. “I-, I-.” She dropped to her knees, supplicating. “I’m sorry I disobeyed the law. But I did it to – “

She cut off at the feeling of Shang’s hand on her shoulder.

“To save your father, I know. I met him, remember? Because of his leg, he would have died quickly. It’s thanks to you he’s alive.”

“I shamed my family- “

“You saved your parents, Fa Mulan. You fought for your home and won. Honor is important, but I would rather have family.”

Startled, Mulan raised her head to look at Shang.

“For the glory of China, I have lost my father, lost good men. For the sake of your family, you have persevered your father’s crop, and if the rumors are true will lead China to greatness. The imperial dragon came to you. Obviously, what we had done before was wrong.”

“Don’t ask me to fix it,” Mulan whispered. “I liked the old China. I want it back.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Eh-HMM.” Mushu’s throat clearing startled them both. When Mulan turned to chastise him, she noticed how slowly he crossed his arms and pointed one claw downwards.  Below, on the floor space under the vanity, hopped Cri-Kee with ink covered feet on a plain paper.

_Bird in room listening._

Mulan didn’t want to find out how much information a falcon could gather and retrieve. She changed the subject. “My parents, are they okay?”

Shang helped Mulan to her feet, guiding her to the chair in front of the vanity. She felt Cri-Kee climb up her leg.

“Your parents are okay. Fa Li is perfectly healthy, and while the general had been injured it was nothing serious. Fi Myung, I’m sorry, Fa Mulan. She didn’t make it.”

“I, I guessed as such. I heard her screaming in the stable.” 

Mushu climbed up onto Mulan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

Was it strange, how the tears would still not come to her face? She felt like she should be crying, but had no space in her head or heart to dedicate to grief.

“Mulan?”

She looked up to see Shang had crouched down to bring his face level with hers. He looked concerned, and Mulan wondered for how long her mind had been blank.

Feeling with her shoe, she pulled out Cri-Kee’s note so Shang could see it. He looked down at the paper, frowned, and started to look for Shan Yu’s falcon. Mulan stopped him by grabbing his wrist. It would be best if the bird didn’t realize they knew it was there.

“I’m fine,” Mulan said. “It’s simply one distressing thing surrounded by many more.”

Shang stared at her, but caught himself when he realized how close their faces were. He pulled back, freeing his wrist, and stood straight halfway between Mulan and the bed. “I understand,” he said. “Eventually, you become…numb.”

Mulan wouldn’t use the word “numb”. Maybe “overwhelmed” or “can’t be bothered to care now but will later.” But she believed Shang saying he understood. How many villages had he seen burned to the ground by the Huns?

He’d lost a father, Mulan remembered. And brothers in arms. Hundreds of them. After all that, perhaps “numb” did become the right word.

Shang coughed. “So, you're gods blessed.”

Mulan sighed, about to deny it, when Mushu spoke up from around Mulan’s neck. “Course she is! Mulan’s the best woman in all of China!”

Shang started at the dragon’s outburst. Mulan tried to stifle a giggle and when Shang caught her eye he turned away, pink dust barely visible on his cheekbones.

He coughed into his fist, before turning back to her. “I’m lucky to have met you, then.” He bowed, deeply.

Mulan scrambled to pull him up. “Please, don’t. I still see you as my captain. I should be bowing to you. Your training has kept me alive.”

“You’re Madam Fa Mulan now, future Empress of China and this morning I swore to protect you with my life. You should never feel the need to bow to me.”

Mulan stepped back, wringing her hands. She didn’t like the reminder of what was around the corner.

“Shan Yu knows, doesn’t he, that you trained with me as Fa Ping.”

So Shang had noticed the Hun’s slide look and words that morning. “Yes. Do, do the others?”

Shang shook his head. “I told them nothing about you being Fa Ping. They believe him dead, killed by the Huns shortly after they attacked your village. But with your hair up you look like him, and you were announced at the procession as Fa Mulan. They believe you’re Ping’s sister. Did you want me to tell them?”

“No! No, of course not. We were never friends,” Mulan shrugged, “and I worry what they would do if they found out. Most men do not like being tricked.”

“No.” Shang agreed, in a tone that let her know that while he understood her deception, it still rubbed him raw.

“We’re here to help,” he said slowly, picking words carefully. “We swore ourselves to you, because no matter what you did in the past, right now we believe you’re China’s only hope.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you? Need help?”

_Do you have a plan? What is it? What can my men do? What can I do?_

“I’m fine, for the moment. But, after the wedding, I’ll need advice on how to lead China. A farmer’s daughter only knows so much about governing.”

“What, my help’s no good?” Mushu said, affronted.

Mulan patted his head with a finger. “You’re my main advisor and protector. But you can’t tell me you know everything.”

“I know more than Pretty Boy.”

Shang watched the two of them talk, a confused look on his face. “I’ll let you sleep, Fa Mulan.”

“You can call me Mulan, in private. No need for us to be so formal.”

“Then I ask you call me Shang.” He bowed, to Mulan and to Mushu, before leaving via the balcony.

“You know,” Mushu said, “I think he likes you.”

“Shang? No.”

“You’re a wonderful woman, Mulan. Anyone would like you.”

“Flatterer.” Mulan kissed Mushu’s head, before unwrapping him from her neck. “Time for bed.”

Mushu burned the paper while Mulan pulled down the sheets. She fell asleep like she normally did in the palace, Cri-Kee by her nose and Mushu under her chin. It took them awhile to drift off, listening to the sound of shifting feathers above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mulan's gowns, both in this chapter and for the rest of the story are based on the traditional outfits explained here: [Traditional Chinese Women Clothing](https://interactchina.wordpress.com/tag/chinese-women-clothing/)


	4. Married Life

The morning of the wedding, Mulan had no clear plan. When it came to consummate the marriage, that would be the best time to strike, but with what, how, and what her potential obstacles were she had only loose guesses.

And she didn’t feel comfortable talking through situations when Xialin and Huan hovered around her as they dressed Mulan in gorgeous swaths of trailing fabric. Shan Yu had shown no hesitation in killing servants, and Mulan didn’t wish to put the two women in danger.

She focused inward, going over the whispering conversations she’d had with Cri-Kee and Mushu during the night. 

Not knowing which would be placed into Mulan’s hair, Cri-Kee had sharpened all the ornaments he could. Yao, for some reason, had entered her quarters while Mulan was out and had found the cricket at work. After several sputters and unanswered questions, he had helped Cri-Kee. Most of Mulan’s hair ornaments had sharp ends now, and several of her jewelry had been given wicked edges.

If Xialin and Huan noticed, they didn’t say anything while they dressed her. Huan had pricked her finger, once, but had frozen bringing it to her lips. Instead, she gently pushed the pin into Mulan’s hair and Mulan swore she felt a drop of blood hit her scalp.

_No more. Chinese blood will be split no more._

In a fugue, she ignored all that went around her until she heard a familiar voice call out her name.

“Fa Mulan?”

She turned her head to see Shang standing next to her, all of her mixed fourteen-member guard standing around them. Without realizing it, she had been dressed and led to the main doors of the palace. Shan Yu wanted the wedding to be as public as possible, showing off Mulan’s heavenly favor. Indeed, her dress looked very much like the dragon curled around her neck. Deep red, with black swallow tails her maids held, yellow on the top of her skirt and blue around her collar.

“I’m fine,” she told Shang, turning back to the doors and waiting for them to open.

Mulan heard her grandmother’s voice in her head. _An apple for serenity, a pendant for balance, beads of jade for beauty, and a cricket for luck._ Myung would have insisted on piling Mulan with trinkets and heirlooms for her wedding, and Mulan missed the feel of the ones she’d worn to the matchmakers. She had insisted on an apple at breakfast, she still had her lucky cricket, but her jade necklace had been traded for a living dragon and nothing could help her gain her balance and strength in this position.

_Be brave,_ Fa Li’s voice said.

This wasn’t a simple woman’s fear, worry over the temperament of a husband and whether he could provide for her. And it wasn’t just a man’s fear, worry over charging into battle and not limping out.  Mulan was willingly walking into a dangerous marriage. Shan Yu would eventually find a way around Mushu. This was knowing the future was bad and putting herself at personal risk to fight in the only way she could, a warrior woman.

She’d do it. She didn’t know how, but she’d do it. For her, for her family, for China.

“I’m fine,” she told Shang, told Xialin and Huan. “I’m ready.”

Shang might have frowned; Mulan was too busy staring at the doors in front of her to notice.

Slowly, the doors opened. Mulan touched one hand to Mushu on her throat, who arched into her fingers, and the other to Cri-Kee hidden in her belt, who jumped into her palm. Together, they’d already come this far, survived so much. Shan Yu was simply the next challenge, and she’d conquer it.

Tall as any imperial general, Mulan strutted down the stairs in her dragon gown and into full view of the people of China.

_Be brave,_ she told them all, _for I will save us all._

* * *

Shang stared at Mulan’s back during the marriage ceremony. There wasn’t an ounce of fear on her face, despite the lost way she had looked most of the morning. Strong. Tall. Proud. Her posture reminded Shang of his own father, of his dedication to his tasks and the people of China. 

_Gods favored. A new dynasty._

Looking at the hint of a dragon around Mulan’s neck, with the whole of the city kneeling as an elder conducted the ceremony in full view of the city, Shang had the incredible thought that Mulan was more than a woman who could bring hope to a conquered country.

She could actually change it.

If only Shang knew what her plan was.

* * *

 

After the ceremony, after an elaborate dinner, after speeches and introductions and Shan Yu keeping her close and Shang’s men hovering ever closer, Mulan was exhausted. Yet she still felt coiled tight, Khan right before he jumped, because the most important part of the night hadn’t happened yet – consummating the marriage.

She couldn’t get away from that, didn’t actually want to get away from that, and yet it terrified her worse than anything she’d faced.

Shan Yu had maybe a hundred pounds on her and their determination was matched. Her likelihood of winning a fight by herself was very slim. Thank ancestors she had Mushu with her, and she expected Shang’s men to be nearby if she called out for help.

“What’s this?” Mulan asked as Xialin and Huan led her into chambers she hadn’t seen before. It was larger, more opulent than where she’d been living up to now and had an extra set of doors.

“These are the Empress’s quarters. They’re connected to the Emperor’s.” Xialin said, closing the door to the hallway. Shang and a Hun stood on either side of the wood outside, leaving Mulan the privacy to get ready for sharing a bed with Shan Yu.

Privacy Mulan wasn’t sure she had, staring at the doors on the other wall. Shan Yu could open them as he pleased, no doubt. Would he come in here, or would she be expected to go to him tonight?

Did it matter? Both rooms were unfamiliar to her, her collection of sharpened tools reduced to the five pieces in her hair.

She cataloged the items in the room as the maids took off Mulan’s gown, folding up the material carefully. They stripped her, and Xialin offered her a purple robe. Mulan didn’t want to think about Ting-Ting wearing it.

When Mulan made to cross the rooms to enter Shan Yu’s, Huan held her back. “Your hair and makeup, Empress. The Emperor wants them as they naturally are.”

Mulan swallowed. Of course he did. No doubt, he anticipated Mulan using hair ornaments as weapons.

Reluctantly, Mulan sat on a chair to allow them to work. Mushu slithered off Mulan’s neck to give the maids access to wipe away the white makeup. He settled on Mulan’s knees.

“You’ll be fine, Mulan. He’s nothing we can’t han-“ Mushu cut off with a yelp as Huan grabbed the dragon around the middle and quickly wrapped a ribbon around Mushu’s snout.

“Huan!” Mulan shot to her feet and reached for Mushu, but Huan stepped back, crying.

“I’m sorry, Empress. The Emperor has my younger brother in the dungeons, he said I have to make sure you don’t have the dragon with you.”

Mushu struggled, wiggling between Huan’s hands. She had to keep adjusting her hold, slapping away the dragon’s hands and covering his mouth. Smoke billowed from Mushu’s nostrils, but he didn’t breathe fire.

“Let him go, Huan,” Mulan said.

“I can’t, he’ll kill Fei.” Huan stepped back and did something with her foot. There, on the floor on the other side of the bed, stood a small iron box. Mulan lunged, but not fast enough. Huan dropped Mushu in it and shut the lid. The sound echoed in the bedroom, followed quickly by thumps as Mushu threw himself against the box’s walls.

Cri-Kee rushed over to the box, poking around the lock.

Mulan whirled on a still crying Huan. “Where’s the key?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Where’s the key, Huan?”

“Mulan?” came Shang’s muffled voice through the outside door. Mulan ignored it.

“Huan!”

“Shan Yu has it. He doesn’t want the dragon dead, just not with you tonight.”

Mulan marched over to the box and yanked on the lid. It didn’t budge. She could hear Mushu shooting inside, he’d removed the ribbon Huan wrapped around his mouth. Again, she tried to open it.

Cri-Kee slipped into the lock, hoping to open it from inside the mechanism.

“Empress, Empress,” Xialin tugged at Mulan’s sleeves. “Empress, please. You have to go through the door, he’s waiting for you.”

Mulan threw her off, still struggling with the box.

“Empress, please. You have to go through, or he promised Huan and I would be on the wall tomorrow morning. Please, please, if you are to save China, start with us.” Xialin sobbed, even as she plucked at Mulan’s robe and pulled out the ornaments holding Mulan’s hair up.

Mulan stood, heart breaking. She knew Xialin words were true. Shan Yu would put the two women to death, as well as Huan’s brother. And Mulan couldn’t have that on her conscience. Couldn’t sentence two women to death because she didn’t want to face an enemy alone.

She took Xialin’s hands in her own and looked the older woman in the eye. “I will save all of China together, tonight, if you let me walk through those doors with the ornaments left in my hair.

Xialin sobbed, shaking her head and reaching for the two still tucked into Mulan’s hair. Huan had retreated to a corner, sobbing in her hands while apologizing. Someone kept pounding on the outside door.

“No woman can win against him,” Xialin whispered, reaching a trembling hand for Mulan’s hair.

Mulan pulled back. _I can,_ she wanted to say, but she always imagined Mushu at her side to help. Not trapped in a box shouting her name.

“Mulan!”

She didn’t know who called her name, Shang outside the door, Mushu in the box, or the maids whose life would be forfeit if she lost. Mulan scooped up a droopy Cri-Kee from the box and threw herself through the door to Shan Yu’s quarters.

There wasn’t much, this room served as a separating one between both of their proper quarters. But there was a mirror in which Mulan could see her own terrified face and the reflection of the falcon on a table to her left. Two men Mulan recognized who always dined on either side of Shan Yu guarded the door to Shan Yu’s rooms. A heavy click sounded as the door back to her own chambers locked behind her, following by what sounded like dragging.

Huan and Xialin, no doubt, still crying yet following Shan Yu’s orders.

Shan Yu wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ kill Mulan. Compared to the maids, she was safe. Mulan understood why the other women did what they did. It still made her sad.

Clenched in her hand, Cri-Kee chirped.

“I’m fine,” Mulan answered, not feeling fine at all. She lifted the cricket to her hair.

She stared at the door across the room, not looking at the men on either side but very aware their weapons. Slowly, Mulan stepped towards the door. Just before putting her hand out to open it, both Huns bowed.

“Empress Fa Mulan,” they said.

Mulan couldn’t tell from the tone if they actually respected her new position. She suspected not. But she was, technically, now able to command them. No doubt, they’d ignore her words.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door into Shan Yu’s bedroom.

He already stood there, clad only in pants, and Mulan had to give herself a moment's pause to think yes, Shan Yu had impressive musculature and could be considered very attractive.

Shan Yu scanned her, head to toe, and smiled when he saw Mushu missing. He didn’t seem to care much about the two ornaments in the left side of her hair.

“Are you going to be difficult?” he asked. Warry.

There was difficult and there was _difficult_. Mulan planned to be harder to conquer than China had been. She lifted her chin high.

Shan Yu moved like Mulan imagined he had scaled the wall, silent, quick, and strong. He grabbed her by the wrists and tossed her on the bed.

Mulan scrambled; on her back was the worst position possible. While rolling towards the other side of the bed, she had to get back to her feet, get leverage, Shan Yu caught her shoulder and forced it to the mattress. Mulan tried to buck him off, lifting her hips and aiming with a knee, but she only caught the edge of his hip and the collision of bone had her grimace.

“Are you going to fight me every night?” Shan Yu asked.

The amusement, the joy at her struggle, raised Mulan’s ire. Instead of trying to get away, Mulan rolled towards him. Her shoulder hit his ear and he let go of her with one hand to clasp his head. Shan Yu’s other hand tightened on her right upper arm. Mulan felt his nails through the robe, grateful for the fabric.

She pried at Shan Yu’s fingers, and when they let go scrambled away. Moments later, something jerked her back. Shan Yu’s knee on the edge of her robe. Quick as she could, she slipped her arms out of the robe and tumbled off the bed.

The impact of her bare skin on the floor was harsh, but she had no time to catch her breath. Jumping to her feet, she whisked out one of her hair ornaments and brandished it towards Shan Yu.

The Hun scanned her naked body fast but wisely kept his attention on her weapon. He kneeled on the bed and crossed his arms.  “I suppose it was too much for your maids to take away the dragon and anything you might have weaponized. I’ll kill the brother. Tomorrow night, you’ll walk through the door with your hair completely down.”

The idea of Huan’s brother’s death, and the sick realization that Shan Yu would enjoy fighting every time he wanted to sample her made Mulan see red.

She lunged towards him, swing the sharpened end of her ornament. Sadly, she had only practiced with swords and for all the power of her swing, the gold did little damage. Taller from being on the bed, Shan Yu grabbed her wrist as the sharpen edge cut through the fabric on his left thigh.

Her wrist bones ground together. She dropped the hair ornament and freed her wrist, backing up a step.

Shan Yu tossed the ornament over his shoulder. It landed with a small _ting_ on the other side of the bed. “Enough,” he barked.

Mulan knew they had crossed the line from fun challenge to annoying challenge. He’d most likely feel even better, more accomplished if he won now. 

As Mulan predicted, the Hun launched himself at her. Mulan sides-stepped, but she couldn’t avoid the blow as Shan Yu swung around to punch her. With a cry, she stumbled back and put up her arms.

Shan Yu didn’t just have weight on her, he had weight on Shang, and Mulan felt very aware that the only thing she had done with Shang, with any man, was _spar._ Actual fighting was worse. Heavier blows. Faster movements. Tangled feet. And only now did she realize how poorly she protected her body.

Shan Yu found every opening, used every bit of his extra weight. In less than a minute, he slammed her into the wall. Stunned, Mulan barely struggled as Shan Yu tossed her to onto the bed.

“No,” she murmured weakly as she felt him grab her wrists and yank them up. He reached up and over, a table near the bed, and came away with a fine piece of rope. Shan Yu had prepared everything. Disarming Mulan. Guards on the door who wouldn’t react to the sounds of the struggle. Bindings.

Mulan did the only thing she could with a heavy man on top of her, pinning her knees and wrists. She went limp.

Shan Yu took it as a brief respite and let go of one of Mulan’s wrists to tie the other. Cri-Kee, jumping out of no where, bolted into Shan Yu's face. Mulan took advantage of the opportunity, reaching for her remaining hair ornament and then stabbing it into Shan Yu’s neck.

As the larger ornament, it had two shafts instead of one. Both slide as easy into Shan Yu’s skin as a sword.

He roared, rearing back. His fingers scrambled for the hair ornament. Once firmly in his grasp, he yanked it out and Mulan flinched as splattered blood landed on her chest and stomach.

Shan Yu continued to kneel over her, ornament in his hand. Mulan looked in his eyes and saw a man on the killing edge. She tensed, expecting him to aim for a vulnerable spot, but watched something shift in his eyes. Shan Yu wanted to hurt her, not kill her.

He forced the shafts deep into the forearm of her tied arm.

She screamed until Shan Yu shut her up with a blow to her head. Woozy, she guessed it had been one hit to the head too many. Concussion. The room spun, she couldn’t focus on anything other than pain and trying to quell the rolling of her stomach.

Vaguely, she felt someone position her body. When her legs were splayed open, she weakly fought the motion. The gruff curses from above had Mulan turn her face to try to focus on Shan Yu.

If she felt wobbly, he looked worse. He didn’t seem to know how to work his hands on his pants, the laces causing him trouble. That, or the blood on his hands made it hard to grasp them. Shan Yu still bleed from his neck wound, a slow but steady stream of blood flowing down his neck, down his chest, and into the hem of his pants. Smaller streams meandered down his arm, droplets falling onto Mulan and the sheets below him.

Somewhere, Mulan knew exactly what was going on. What Shan Yu was attempting to do. But her thoughts slipped away from her. All that mattered was _pain_ and _no._ So, while Shan Yu was distracted by weakly swatting at Cri-Kee and struggling with his laces, she raised a trembling hand, stretched it across her body, and yanked out the hair ornament from her hand.

Shan Yu hadn’t noticed, too eager to pull at his laces now that he’d managed to untie the knot.

Taking a firm grip, Mulan put all the strength she could into her swing. She stabbed Shan Yu twice in his inner thigh. When he fall back, screaming, Mulan managed the impossible and held onto the golden weapon.

Mulan blinked at Shan Yu through fuzzy eyes. She watched as he tried to stay upright on the side of the bed. Watched as his hands applied pressure to his neck and thigh. Watched the blood bubble between his fingers. Watched as he collapsed, blood loss finally catching up to him.

When Shan Yu fell off the bed and out of sight, Mulan released the hair ornament and shut her eyes.

* * *

How long later Mulan woke up, she didn’t know. But she knew exactly what woke her – the small sound of a latching being wiggled. 

It was a struggle to open her eyes, but once Mulan recognized where she was she sat up in bed quickly. 

A flutter to her left caught her attention, a falling bit of cloth.

Someone had hacked through the rope on her wrist and covered her wound with part of the bedsheet in an effort to stop the bleeding. Who?

The latching jiggling noise continued.

There, jumping up and down, was Cri-Kee. And there, next to the rope shreds, was the smaller hair ornament. How long had Mulan been unconscious, to have not noticed Cri-Kee using it to saw through the ropes?

“Cri-Kee?” she asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

The soft sound of metal clacking stopped and Mulan found herself with a lap full of bouncing cricket chirping in concern.

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing a finger down her friend’s back. “Let’s go get Mushu, okay?”

Chirping in acknowledgment, Cri-Kee nodded.

Mulan slowly pulled herself up, legs wobbly. She needed to get her robe, she refused to leave the room without a cover.

At the end of the bed, she halted. Shan Yu laid there, hands still desperately trying to staunch the bleeding that had killed him. For some reason, Mulan focused on them. The limp fingers, the yellowish nails, the scars on his thumbs.

She had killed this man. In the heat of battle, yes, but she had walked into the room expecting this ending. It didn’t make her feel better. If anything, she felt worse because of it.

Shang had been right, all that time ago. She wasn’t suited war. She could do it, fight with the men, but she’d walk away from every fight with this hollowness in her chest.

She picked up the robe with trembling fingers, wrapping herself in tight. With Cri-Kee watching, she used the hair ornament to rip the bed sheets and used them to tie an awkward bandage around her still bleeding wrist.

Walking to the door to unlatch it, Mulan labeled her aches. Now that the rush of the fight disappeared, she felt even the tiniest of injuries. The slight throb in her hands and feet from punching, the potentially broken rib, a deep soreness in her left forearm. A concussion too, of course, and maybe a head wound. She hadn’t checked and her face lacked blood, but she’d hit her head several times and it pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

The walk to the door seemed as long as a ride into to town, not ten steps, and opening it clumsily with her left hand left her panting.

Eventually, she managed.

Opening the door, she found the action mirrored on the other side of the room - Shang thrusting the door open from Mulan’s rooms, Mushu on his shoulder leading the way with a burst of flame.

“Mulan!” they both said at the same time.

Mushu reached her first, scrambling down Shang before sliding to a halt in front of her. He seemed reluctant to pull on the silk robe, something Mulan very much appreciated in front of Shang. Instead, he sat up straight a foot in front of her and scanned her head to toe.

“You’re hurt.”

“Yes. We’ll worry about it later.” Mulan looked up at Shang, noticed the other men now visible behind him in her new bed chambers. “The guards?” she asked the captain.

“Dead. Shan Yu?”

“Also dead.”

Beneath Shang’s elbow, Yao gave her an impressed looked.

“I wasn’t-“ Shang cut himself off and Mulan could imagine what he had planned to say. _I wasn’t expecting you to do it by yourself. I wasn’t expecting you to win. I wasn’t sure what you had planned to do._

Regardless, the consequences of her action, the immediate questions of _what do I do now_ hit her with the full weight of a pair of oxen. At the same time, the last bits of adrenaline faded and left Mulan exhausted. All she wanted was to slip away into slumber.

A worried chirp had her straight her slumping back.

“Empress Fa Mulan,” Chien-Po said from behind Shang. “Please, let me see to your wounds.”

“In a moment.” Empress. She was Empress. Save China, that had been her goal, by getting rid of Shan Yu. She hadn’t planned beyond that, didn’t know what to do beyond that. But in the past two weeks, so many had put their hope on her shoulder that she would successfully lead them to recover China’s destroyed glory.

What was step one?

She looked down at Mushu, who, almost reluctantly, shrugged and pointed at Shang. Together, Mulan and Mushu had winged a lot of things. But this was too delicate, too important.

Mulan stared at Shang. “Captain Shang, you and your men swore oaths to me.”

Shang dropped to a knee, the men behind him doing the same. “Yes, Empress.”

“I’m hoping your oath of protection also means you’re willing to work as an advisor. We have just committed treason, killing the Emperor, several of his personal guard, and no doubt the other half of mine. For our own protection, and for the sake of China, what do you advise our next steps to be?”

She stared at Shang’s bowed head, watched as he looked under his arm and over his shoulder at the men behind him. They’d been through a lot, Mulan knew, as a unit. No doubt, together they could come up with an idea.

“The only ones we have to worry about are the Huns.”

“Some servants will help, but most will stay low.”

“How likely are they to fight, if they know Shan Yu’s dead?”

“How many Huns are in the palace?”

“Will those not in the palace attack us in the morning?”

“Not if they’re scared. We don’t have to let them know we’re only seven.”

“What if – “

Mulan tuned them out, leaning against the doorframe to Shan Yu’s room. She wanted nothing more than to sink into a dozen pillows. Mushu slowly crawled up her body to ring her neck.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Fine,” she whispered back.

Cri-Kee’s answer was longer and based on Mushu’s reactions, more through.

“Your wrist, Mulan,” Mushu insisted. “Your head. Girl, you need a healer. Let’s go back to your room. Xialin and Huan are there.”

Indeed, behind the kneeling men she could see into her room and just catch two female forms out of sight. Huan’s brother in the dungeon, he’d need to be freed.

Mulan cleared her throat. “I’m going to bathe, have my wounds seen too. When I’m done, I expect to hear your plan.”

“Yes, Empress,” Shang said, before turning back to his men.

They stopped talking, watching Mulan weave between them back to her rooms. For privacy, she closed the door behind her.

Inside her room were nine dead Huns. Two, she recognized as the ones who had stood guard in the in-between room. Huan and Xialin were valiantly trying to clean the chambers, faces carefully blank even as their hands trembled while they gathered up blood stained bed sheets.

When Mulan entered the room, Xialin turned and gasped. “Empress Mulan!” Immediately, she came over to fuss over Mulan, hands gingerly touching her arms, her messed up hair, the blood splatters visible on her skin where the robe didn’t cover it. She started crying. “You’re hurt.”

“I won,” Mulan said.

Huan burst into loud sobs.

“I won,” Mulan repeated, taking Xialin’s hands in hers. “Shan Yu won’t harm anyone else in China again.”

Shaking her head, still crying though Xialin didn’t seem to notice, she pulled Mulan towards a bucket. “We’ll clean you, and – “

“Not here, please.” She didn’t want to bathe in the sight of nine dead men. Not in Ting-Ting’s room, a woman who most likely would have some idea of what to do as Empress. “My old rooms. And quietly.”

All three women tiptoed through the palace until they reached Princess Mei’s former rooms, where Mulan was bathed, had her wounds take care of as best as possible, and dressed for bed. When Shang came knocking an hour later to share what his plan was, Mulan simply nodded and gave her approval.

She was too tired for anything else.

“Cri-Kee will watch her. God’s favor and lucky. Mulan’s a special woman.” she vaguely remembered hearing Mushu say.

“She is.” Shang might have answered, “She’s stolen all of China’s heart.”

* * *

 

The next morning, dawn’s light shined down on a familiar sight on the palace walls. Bodies, tied on tall poles for the crows to reach. 

There were ten of them, nine Hun soldiers and Shan Yu himself. Shan Yu held a falcon’s claw, the bird burned by Mushu and feed to the Imperial pigs.

The sight encouraged many Huns to slip away in the night. First, those guarding the wall who startled at the sudden appearance of their master’s body. Then, the early risers. Finally, those who wondered at the lack of servants and looked up as they walked outside.

Slowly, one by one, the Huns left the city. No doubt, they’d regroup. Cause chaos elsewhere. But they knew their hold on China had disappeared. That, indeed, China’s ruler was a god favored woman. Fa Mulan held the divine right to rule, and anyone who went against her would be subjected to the same cruel fate. 

Dragon fire to the face.

* * *

 

It had never been done before, China ruled by an Empress. History had simply given the title to the Emperor’s first wife, but Mulan found she liked the power she wielded holding the ruling position. 

No one challenged her for it. Shan Yu, eager to cement his place as China’s ruler, had completely destroyed the former emperor’s direct line, leaving only family branches whose bloodlines had diverged a century ago. Even then, no one would challenge a woman who wore a dragon around her neck.

“China is too big, Mushu.” Mulan sighed, looking out over the palace’s public square. Since her announcement yesterday morning, that Shan Yu was dead and China in her hands, the square always contained someone. They prayed to the gods, to Mulan. Left offerings.

One in a while, it’d be a man walking across the cobblestones. Shang had asked for volunteers to rebuild the Imperial Army. Already his numbers had swelled from seven men to forty. Not a lot, not enough, but then again, they had taken China back with less.

“Of course China is big. It’s old. And maybe that’s why this all happened. It’s harder to defend a large thing than a small thing. Too many bits stick out.”

Mulan snored, recalling a training exercise with Chien-Po as her partner. Roughly two heads taller than her, Mulan had not been able to prevent blows to his upper body and lost the mock fights.

“We’ll start with the city,” Mushu continued, patting Mulan’s cheek from his position on her shoulder. “Make it live again. Thrive. And then bring back into the fold the old villages. They’ll want to join, that’s how countries work. It’ll be safe for villages to offer food and men in exchange for our protection. Many places will need that, in the coming years.”

“You sound like my father.”

“Are you saying I’m as wise as a dragon? I’m honored.”

Mulan whirled around.

There, feet away, stood her father.

“Father!” Mulan tossed herself into his arms. Fa Zhou’s hands wrapped around her back, solid and strong. Another body, her mother, came up on her left and joined the hug.

After a minute, Mulan pulled back, rubbing at her teary eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Shang said you were, but I was never sure.”

“News of your engagement spread fast,” Fa Li said, pushing away Mulan’s hands. “Of course we’d come.”

“I asked the Captain to bring you home, but I suppose making you Empress will do,” Zhou smiled.

Mulan smiled back, a little sad because she realized she’d never tell them the true story.  She’d told the public that the Queen’s Guard and Mushu had acted on her behalf to free China from Hun control. It hadn’t seemed proper to state she’d been the one to kill Shan Yu. They’d already tossed tradition out the window, Mulan didn’t want to trample on anything she didn’t have to.

They were her traditions too.

Regardless, she’d never repeat the deed. She planned on avoiding such situations in the future, and her wrist, the court physician had told her, would forever be weak. Once healed, Mulan would hold a sword, but not long enough to train, to last a fight. Even now, her hand and wrist trembled to support a pair of chopsticks to eat with.

“I didn’t mean to become Empress,” Mulan answered.

“We know,” Li said. “But we know you’ll be wonderful, and we’re here to help.”

“Help?”

“Fa Zhou is a name that carries weight still,” Zhou said, “and I have taught you much about farming but little of tactics and strategy. I know how to manage men, your mother how to manage property. You have started a new dynasty, Fa Mulan. Your family will help you build it.”

Mulan let her tears flow freely again. “Thank you, Father.”

“Thank you, Mulan, for honoring your mother and me. And thank you, Mushu,” Zhou and Li bowed to the dragon on Mulan’s shoulder, “for guiding our daughter.”

“The ancestors heard your prayers, long ago when Mulan first stole your armor.”

“You’ve been looking after our daughter that long?” Zhou blinked at Mushu.

“Well, me and the bug.”

Cri-Kee chirped, waving a leg from his perch on Mulan’s head.

Li smiled at the sight. “Grandmother’s cricket.”

“Cri-Kee has brought me a lot of luck,” Mulan admitted, “And Mushu has given me courage. I’d be honored if you graced me with your knowledge.”

She bowed to her parents, who immediately forced her to stand upright.

“None of that,” Li scolded. “You’re Empress, now.”

“You’re still my parents.”

“We’re family,” Zhou said, “We’ll honor each other.”

Mulan gave her father a watery smile.

“Now come. I came to bring you to supper.” Zhou offered an arm to Mulan.

She took it and let her father lead her and her mother to the dining room.

“If your grandmother was here,” Li began, “she’d try to set you up with Captain Shang.”

Mulan blushed.

“Oh, I can do that,” Mushu offered.

Mulan swatted at him. He ducked and jumped from her shoulder to Fa Li’s out stretched hand.

“He is a good man,” Zhou said, “He’s already taken care of you.”

“The Hos won’t mind the broken engagement,” Li added.

“You mean they won’t do more than huff air,” Mulan corrected.

Zhou shrugged. “You are Empress of China. You can do what you want. And if it’s marrying Li Shang, who am I to stop you?”

“Father! I don’t want to-“ Mulan swallowed her words as, walking into the palace, her guards came into view.

Yao and Ling were failing to suppress their smiles. No doubt, they had heard her parents teasing. Mulan blushed, then lifted her head high.

“Let’s eat. And then we can find you rooms to stay in.”

Mushu snickered, but her family let the subject drop. No doubt, they’d push her many times, but Mulan found she didn’t mind. She was Empresses now, and with the position, the fears and uncertainty of marriage fell away. She could, or she could not, and she had the freedom to choose.

Despite the famine in the country and the inability to protect her people from outside invasions, Mulan felt positive about the future. Worries, not fears. Choice, not forced options. She could do what she wanted and what she felt was best. For her. Her family. And China.

Maybe she held the gods’ favor after all.


End file.
